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LOWELL  LECTURES; 
18  7 1. 


INSTINCT: 

ITS  OFFICE  IN  THE  ANIMAL  KINGDOM, 

AND 

ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  HIGHER  POWERS  IN  MAN 


BY 

P.  A.  CHADBOURNE,  LL.D., 

AUTHOR  OF  “RELATIONS  OF  NATURAL  HISTORY,”  “NATURAL 
THEOLOGY,”  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

G.  P.  PUTNAM’S  SONS 

27  AND  29  West  23d  St. 

1883 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1872,  by 
GEO.  R PUTNAM  & SONS, 

in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


GIDEON  L.  SOULE,  LL.D., 


PKINCIPAL  OF  PHILLIPS  EXETER  ACADEMT. 

Sir, — I dedicate  these  Lectures  to  you  with  grateful  remembrance  of 
your  counsels  and  instruction,  and  with  sincere  admiration  for  that  schol- 
arship and  wisdom  which,  for  fifty  years,  have  done  so  much  for  the  honor 
and  usefulness  of  the  Institution  over  which  you  preside. 

With  great  respect  and  esteem, 

I am  most  truly  yours, 


P.  A.  CHADBOURNB. 


“ But  I see  another  law  in  my  members  warring  against  the  law  of  my 
mind^  and  bringing  me  into  captivity  to  the  law  of  sin,  which  is  in  my 
members.”— Komans,  chap.  vii.  ver.  23. 


” But  mind  this : the  more  we  observe  and  study,  the  wider  the  range 
of  the  automatic  and  instinctive  principles  in  body  and  mind  and  morals, 
and  the  narrower  the  limits  of  the  self-determining,  conscious  move- 
ment.”—Holmes,  Autocrat  of  Breakfast  Table.,  p.  95. 

“ As  dependent  upon  bodily  organization,  as  actuated  by  sensual  pro- 
pensities and  animal  wants  [man],  belongs  to  matter,  and,  in  this  re- 
spect, he  is  the  slave  of  necessity.  But  what  man  holds  of  matter  does 
not  make  up  his  personality.  * * * He  is  conscious  to  himself  of  facul- 
ties not  comprised  in  the  chain  of  physical  necessity.” — Hamilton, 
Metaphysics  (Bowen),  p.  16. 

— “We  can  hardly  find  a more  suitable  expression  to  indicate  those 
incomprehensible  spontaneities  themselves,  of  which  the  primary  facts 
of  consciousness  are  the  manifestations,  than  rational.,  or  intellectual  In- 
stirwtsl'—Ibid..,  p.  505. 


“Now  it  may  be  that  what  we  call  instinct  here,  has  not  been  suffi- 
ciently investigated.  We  hear  men  speak  of  the  higher  instincts  and  of 
raticmal  instincts.  Are  these,  then,  for  the  higher  nature  what  the  lower 
instincts  are  for  the  lower?  As  many  view  it.  What  is  Conscience  but  a 
rational  instinct.,  a guide  without  comprehension,  but  rational,  because 
it  reveals  itself  as  the  voice  of  God,  which  all  instinct  is,  without  thus 
revealing  itself  ? ’’—President  Hopkins,  Moral  Science.,  1st  Ed.,  p.  214. 


CONTENTS 


LECTURE  I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

PAG* 

Investigations  respecting  the  origin  and  destiny  of  man. — The  central 
question.— Conditions  of  human  progress. — Importance  of  man’s  animal 
nature.— Comparative  psychology. — Power  of  definitions.— Mistake  in 
use  of  formulas.— Definitions  of  instinct. — Vital  activities  to  be  traced. 

— Apparent  work  of  instinct. — Utilizes  structure  and  function. — Includes 
impulse,  knowledge,  skill. — Natural  history  and  speculative  philosophy. 

— Man  the  perfection  of  the  vertebrate  type. — Organs  put  to  a higher 
use  as  the  nature  of  the  being  demands. — Mind  and  thought. — Diverse 
philosophical  views.— Work  defined.— Results  to  be  reached. — Topics 
for  discussion 17 


LECTURE  11. 

OPERATIONS  IN  INORGANIC  NATURE  AND  PLANT  LIFE  THAT 
SIMULATE  INSTINCT. 


Definitions  of  Paley,  Whately,  and  Hamilton  considered.— The  office  of 
the  physical  forces. — Life,  sensation,  volition. — Method  of  discussion 
explained.— Positivism.— Instinct  part  of  a series  of  agencies. — Life 
depending  upon  the  position  of  the  earth  and  the  changes  within  it. — 
Geologic  changes. — Activities  of  the  plant. — Instinct-like  provisions  of 
plants. — Community  of  action. — Special  provision  of  the  tree  for  itself. 

— Wise  economy  of  plants. — Movement  of  plants. — Special  structures 
and  functions.— Provision  made  by  plants  for  their  young 40 


Contents. 


viii 


LECTURE  III. 

OPERATIONS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY  SIMULATING  INSTINCT;  AND  THE 
LOWEST  FORMS  OF  INSTINCT  FOR  THE  WELFARE  OF  THE  INDI- 
VIDUAL ANIMAL  SUPPLEMENTING  PHYSIOLOGY  OR  FUNCTION  OF 
ORGANS. 


PAGE 

Intelligent  and  instinctive  acts.— The  tent-moth. — Animal  physiology. — 
Structure,  function,  and  instinct  supplementing  each  other. — Unity 
from  system. — Specific  plans.— Servitude  of  plants.— Life  and  its  phe- 
nomena.—Evolution  of  the  tree. — The  animal  body  a machine.— Its 
evolution  from  the  egg. — Variables  giving  rise  to  species. — Alchemists. 

— Evolution  of  a specific  form,  the  robin.— Growth  of  the  bird  requir- 
ing instinctive  action. — The  first  instinctive  act. — Selection  of  food. — 
Relation  of  life  to  the  physical  forces.— Doctrine  of  evolution.— Higher 
manifestation  of  instinct  in  securing  food 67 


LECTURE  IV. 

HIGHER  FORMS  OF  INSTINCT  FOR  THE  WELFARE  OF  THE  INDI- 
VIDUAL OR  THE  SPECIES,  HAVING  NO  IMMEDIATE  RELATION  TO 
STRUCTURE  OR  FUNCTION  OF  ORGANS. 


Intelligence  guided  by  experience.— Instinct  independent.— A natural 
development. — Building  of  nests  or  homes.— Perfection  of  nest  no  test 
of  the  animal’s  rank. — The  facts  of  building  stated. — Relation  of  build- 
ing to  structure  and  function. — Variation  in  building.— Swallows. — 
Thrushes.— Oriole.— Black-birds. — Sparrows. — Nests  from  different 
localities. — Mr.  Wallace’s  theory. — Difference  in  building  power. — 
Improvement  by  practice.— The  cow-bird.— Supplementary  instinct  of 
the  foster-parent— Change  of  instinct  compared  with  change  in  plants.  93 


LECTURE  V. 

SOME  MANIFESTATIONS  OF  HIGHER  INSTINCT. — RELATION  OF 
INSTINCT  TO  SPECIAL  STRUCTURE  AND  FUNCTION. 


Relation  of  the  appetites  to  the  instincts.— Perfection  of  the  work  no 
proof  of  intelligence  in  the  actor.— Test  of  intelligence.— Flexibility  of 
instinct, — The  ampelopsis. — The  bean. — The  potato. — The  knowledge 
of  enemies  among  fowls. — Common  defence. — Simulation  of  death. — 
Instinct  and  climatic  change.— The  muskrat.— The  partridge.— Instincts 
learned  from  observation  alone.— Instincts  essential  to  life.— Origin  of 


Contents'". 


IX 


PAGE 

instinctive  powers.— Hibernation. — Difficulties  of  the  natural  selection 
theory.— Special  structures.- The  rattlesnake,  bee,  wasp,  and  hornet. 

— Relation  of  instinct  to  color  and  form.— Cases  cited  from  Wallace. — 
Relation  of  instinct  to  experience.— Seventeen-year  locusts m 


LECTURE  VI. 

INSTINCT  FOR  COMMUNITIES  OF  ANIMALS. — ITS  RELATION  TO 
THE  DOCTRINE  OF  NATURAL  SELECTION. 

Illustrations  of  the  community  system.— The  cow-bird.— Three  kinds 
belonging  to  the  same  species. — Necessity  for  slaves  among  ants. — 
The  brood  or  annual  flock. — Permanent  organization.— Leaders. — Sen- 
tinels.— Pelicans  of  Utah  Lake. — The  beaver. — Morgan’s  work. — The 
rank  of  the  beaver. — The  muskrat. — Variation  of  instinct  necessary. — 
Complexity  of  work  no  proof  of  intelligence.— Consideration  of  theo- 
ries.— Accumulated  work  of  intelligence. — Instinct  like  it,  in  effect — 

The  honey-bee.— Bumble-bees  and  wasps. — Slave-ants.— Darwin’s 
explanation. — Difficulties. — Natural  selection  and  variation  not  suffi- 
cient— Wallace  on  natural  selection  applied  to  man 137 


LECTURE  VII. 

INSTINCT  CONNECTED  WITH  THE  PARENTAL  RELATION. — AS  DE- 
MANDING CERTAIN  CHANGES  IN  OTHER  ANIMALS  AND  PLANTS. 
— AS  A LAW  FOR  THE  ANIMAL. — AS  SUBJECT  TO  VARIATION. 

Effect  of  parental  instinct.— Completes  its  course.— Disturbed  by  domes- 
tication.— Answering  instinct  of  the  young. — Correlation  of  the  three 
kingdoms  of  nature. — Hibernation. — Gall-flies. — Ichneumon-flies.— Bot- 
fly.— Tent-moth. — Oak-pruners. — Borer. — Preservation  of  the  fittest. — 
Instinct  as  a law. — Uniformity  among  animals.— Periodicity  and  self- 
regulating power  of  the  appetites. — Instinct  can  be  deceived.— Follows 
the  impression  of  the  senses. — Variation  of  instinct.— Production  of 
varieties.— Definition  of  an  instinct,  and  of  instinct  as  a general  term. . . 157 


LECTURE  VIII. 

HIGHER  CHARACTER  OF  ANIMALS. — ANIMALS  COMPARED 
WITH  MAN. 

Knowledge  from  experience. — Do  animals  think? — Definition  of  thinking. 
— Conditions  of  the  act  to  be  studied. — Difficulty  of  the  work. — Con- 
dition of  the  animal. — Physical  structure  and  growth  in  men  and  ani- 
mals.— The  senses  in  both.— Physiological  likeness.— Capacity  of 


X 


Contents. 


PAGE 

animals  for  pain  and  enjoyment. — Psychological  effects  of  sensations 
in  animals. — Fear,  anger,  joy,  grief,  shame. — The  desires. — .(Esthetic 
nature  of  animals. — Animals  learn  by  experience.— Their  actions  com- 
pared with  those  of  man. — Taming  and  trapping  animals. — Memory  of 
animals. — Dreaming.— Summation  of  the  argument. — Instinct  the  con- 
trolling power.— The  rights  of  animals 187 


LECTURE  IX. 

INSTINCT  IN  MAN  GROWING  OUT  OF  HIS  APPETITES. — ANIMAL 
IN  THEIR  ORIGIN. 

Man  and  animals  compared. — Observation  and  study  a necessity  for 
man.— The  higher  ruling  principle. — Free  personality. — Complexity  of 
man’s  nature. — Origin  and  use  of  the  appetites.— Narrow  range  of 
animal  instinct  in  the  child. — Nursing.— Fear. — Moral  instincts.— Ani- 
mal instincts  to  be  governed. — Marriage. — The  desires. — Desire  of  life, 
of  knowledge,  of  power,  of  esteem,  of  society. — Revolutions  and 
reformations. — Summation  of  activities 211 


LECTURE  X. 

RELATION  OF  THE  INSTINCTIVE  PRINCIPLES  OF  ACTION  TO  THE 
RATIONAL  AND  MORAL  NATURE  OF  MAN. 

Intuitions  and  instincts.— Something  must  be  given  as  a basis  for  reason- 
ing and  for  acting.— Agricultural  ants. — Belief  in  the  uniformity  of 
natural  phenomena,  from  observation. — Instinct  acts  in  reference  to 
contingent  events.— Purposes  for  which  instinctive  principles  are 
needed  by  man.— The  desires.— The  affections.— Love  of  society.— 
Knowledge,  property,  power,  esteem. — Faith. — Benevolence. — Need 
of  guidance  in  man — The  ruling  power. — Conflict  between  the  higher 
and  lower  instincts. — The  comprehending  power. — Difference  between 
man  and  the  highest  animals. — “ Ought.” — Sense  of  obligation 229 


LECTURE  XL 

THE  MORAL  INSTINCTS. — OBLIGATION. 

Law  of  being  defined. — Relation  of  men  and  animals  to  this  law. — Con- 
ditions under  which  obligation  arises.— Man’s  freedom.— Self-denial. — 
Effects  of  ignorance.— Relation  of  obligation  to  the  judgment.— Double 
action  of  obligation. — Doing  right  because  it  is  right. — Obligation  to  do 
justly. — Four  manifestations  of  obligation. — ^^Its  action  compared  with 


Contents. 


XI 


PAGE 

the  instincts.— Its  relation  to  progress.— Moral  conflicts.— Choice.— 
Free  personality.— Accountability.— Remorse.— Man  compared  with 
an  animal.— Moral  powers  always  found  in  him. — The  perfection  and 
sphere  of  the  animal.— The  sphere  of  man’s  action 256 


LECTURE  XII. 

RELIGIOUS  INSTINCTS. — SUMMARY  AND  CONCLUSION. 

Summary  of  principles. — Their  existence  denied. — May  be  dormant. — 
Assert  their  sway.— Knowledge  of  God.— Instinct  of  a child.— Natural 
religion.—Revelation.— Instinct  of  prayer.— Of  worship. — Analogous  to 
animal  instincts. — Individual  accountability. — Diagram  of  powers. — 
Explanation  of  activities. — Choice  of  an  ultimate  end. — Provisions  for 
every  appetite  and  desire. — Summary  of  lectures.— Defects  of  our  edu- 
cation.— Man’s  power  over  the  universe.— His  relationship  to  it. — Pre- 
pare the  way  for  progress. — ^The  laborers  needed. — Influence  of  names. 
— Transition  period. — Final  results  of  the  study  and  control  of  all  the 


powers 279 

APPENDIX 305 


PEEFACE. 


Since  these  Lectures  were  written  several  im- 
portant works  have  appeared  that  discuss  many  of 
the  points  here  presented.  It  is  proper  to  say  that 
the  outline  of  the  Lectures  was  sketched  in  the 
Author’s  Natural  Theology  published  in  1867 ; 
and  many  of  the  discussions  are  here  abridged  be- 
cause presented  with  fulness  in  that  work.  In 
some  places  the  discussion  has  taken  the  form  of 
criticism  of  other  works.  This  could  not  be  avoid- 
ed without  ignoring  many  scientific  and  practical 
questions  that  are  now  topics  of  universal  interest. 
Great  respect  is  due  to  the  opinions  of  those  who 
have  carefully  studied  any  subject,  but  they  are  to 
be  accepted  only  when  borne  out  by  facts.  The 
necessity  for  independent  investigation  and  thought 
is  constantly  pressed  upon  us  by  the  fact  that  on 
many  subjects  discussed  in  these  Lectures,  the 
most  diverse  views  are  held  by  able  men  who  have 
enjoyed  equal  advantages  for  investigation.  Every 


14 


Preface. 


observer  and  thinker  may  do  something  to  settle 
these  disputed  points,  but  the  scantiness  of  materi- 
als generally  at  hand  and  the  liability  to  error  in 
the  interpretations  of  facts,  should  make  every  la- 
borer cautious  in  his  own  work  and  lenient  towards 
the  mistakes  of  others.  It  is  with  a deep  convic- 
tion of  the  need  of  the  hearty  cooperation  of  the 
cultivators  of  different  fields  of  science,  especially 
of  Naturalists  and  Mental  Philosophers,  in  the  full 
study  of  man,  that  these  Lectures  are  presented  to 
the  public.  The  necessity  of  investigation  in  spe- 
cial departments  of  science  is  readily  conceded. 
But  if  men  must  consume  all  their  strength  on  one 
specialty  they  should  remember  that  excellence  in 
that  is  no  measure  of  their  ability  to  decide  ques- 
tions in  other  departments.  But  such  excellence 
in  a single  specialty,  however  restricted,  is  too  often 
taken  by  its  possessor  and  by  the  community  as  a 
measure  of  his  just  authority  on  every  question  he 
chooses  to  decide.  Broad  culture  as  a foundation 
for  scientific  attainments,  respect  for  other  sciences 
than  our  own  and  intercourse  with  those  who  view 
the  same  subjects  from  other  stand-points  than  our 
own,  are  absolutely  essential  for  safe  generalizations 
in  those  complex  sciences  that  relate  to  animal  and 
rational  life. 

If  these  Lectures  quicken  the  interest  of  any 
in  the  study  of  nature  or  in  a more  thorough  in- 


Preface. 


15 


vestigation  of  their  own  complex  powers,  so  that 
our  relations  to  the  world  shall  be  better  under- 
stood, they  will  subserve  the  purpose  for  which 
they  were  written. 

WiLLIAMSTOWN,  MASS., 

November  i,  1871. 


SECOND  EDITION. 


The  first  edition  of  this  work  was  soon  ex- 
hausted, and  the  author  promised  himself  and  the 
publishers  to  embody  in  a new  edition  the  results 
reached  by  other  investigators,  as  well  as  additions 
to  the  discussion  as  here  presented.  The  pressure 
of  official  duties  caused  delay,  and  the  material 
constantly  increasing  and  giving  rise  to  many  im- 
portant questions  demands  separate  treatment, 
which  the  writer  hopes  soon  to  give  it.  He  finds 
no  occasion,  however,  in  the  new  facts  recorded  by 
investigators  to  essentially  modify  the  statements 
of  facts  and  principles  here  made.  The  work  has 
passed  under  the  review  of  those  whose  studies 
and  investigations  fitted  them  specially  for  pass- 
ing judgment  upon  these  intricate  questions,  which 
all  careful  students  admit  to  be  of  most  difficult 
solution.  The  author  is  under  great  obligation  to 


i6 


Preface, 


those  gentlemen  who  have  given  him  their  sug- 
gestions by  private  letters,  as  well  as  for  the  public 
reviews,  which,  so  far  as  he  has  seen,  have,  with  a 
single  exception,  been  distinguished  for  fairness 
and  an  intelligent  treatment  of  the  subject. 

The  author  desires  now  to  renewedly  call  the 
attention  of  Naturalists  and  Psychologists  to 
the  discussions  here  commenced,  satisfied  as  he  is 
that  here  is  a field  calling  for  their  combined  study 
for  its  successful  investigation,  and  one  worthy  of 
their  best  efforts.  New  facts  can  be  gathered  by 
careful  observers  every  year,  but  no  new  facts  in 
kind  have  appeared  among  all  the  recent  labors  of 
distinguished  naturalists.  The  origin^  office^  and 
limit  of  Instinct  in  animals  and  men  are  subjects 
still  pressing  upon  the  Psychologist  as  well  as 
Naturalist  for  the  careful  consideration  of  both. 

Amherst,  Mass., 

July  I,  1882. 


II^STIITOT. 

» 

LECTURE  I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

Investigations  respecting  the  origin  and  destiny  of  man. — The  central 
question. — Conditions  of  human  progress. — Importance  of  Man’s 
animal  nature. — Comparative  Psychology.  — Power  of  Defini- 
tions.— Mistake  in  use  of  formulas. — Definitions  of  Instinct. — 
Vital  activities  to  be  traced. — Apparent  work  of  Instinct. — Util- 
izes structure  and  function. — Includes  impulse.,  knowledge,  skill. 
— Natural  History  and  Speculative  Philosophy. — Man  the  per- 
fection of  the  Vertebrate  type. — Organs  put  to  a higher  use  as  the 
nature  of  the  being  demands. — Mind  and  thought. — Diverse  phi- 
losophical views. — Works  defined. — Results  to  be  reached. — Topics 
for  discussion. 

“ What  is  man’s  origin  and  what  is  his  des- 
tiny,” is  the  opening  sentence  of  the  course  of  lec- 
tures which  I had  the  privilege  of  delivering  in  this 
place  five  years  ago.  This  double  question  is  still 
perplexing  the  world.  Science  is  delving  in  bone 
caves,  and  peat  bogs  and  lake  deposits  for  records 
more  ancient  than  historic  books.  Every  split  bone 
and  fractured  flint  are  interrogated  respecting  the 
customs  of  the  early  tribes  of  men,  whose  era  upon 


I8 


Instmct. 


the  earth  is  known  only  by  the  geologic  accumula- 
tions above  their  remains, — and  whose  manner  of 
life  is  revealed  only  by  the  remnants  of  their  feasts 
and  the  instruments  of  stone  buried  in  the  caves 
which  their  owners  once  inhabited.  Every  ancient 
human  skull  is  measured — as  to  capacity  and  angles 
— to  determine  the  animal  affinities  of  man.  Geol- 
ogy and  history,  sacred  and  profane,  are  scanned  as 
never  before — as  eagerly  as  though  the  continued 
existence  of  the  race  depended  upon  the  evidence 
which  these  records  can  give  of  the  manner  in  which 
man  came  upon  the  earth  and  of  the  time  when  he 
came.  Bone  caves  become  ancestral  mansions, 
rude  implements  of  stone  the  measure  of  man’s 
earliest  ingenuity,  and  the  dreariness  of  the  glacial 
period  the  paradise  to  which  he  was  welcomed. 
Laborers  eager  and  zealous,  claim  to  have  already 
linked  the  human  race  to  the  stock  from  whence 
sprang  the  ape  and  gorilla,  and  trace  through 
devious  lines,  its  comparatively  modern  origin  to 
the  Ascidian  mollusk. 

Others  as  busy  and  eager  quite,  are  peering  into 
the  future  to  learn  what  the  race  is  yet  to  become. 
They  sum  up  the  advances  made  by  man  within  the 
historic  period,  and  especially  within  the  last  centu- 
ry, and  then  inquire,  “ What  will  the  powers  and 
opportunities  of  man  do  for  him  when  he  has  num- 
bered as  many  more  centuries  upon  the  earth  as  he 
has  already  numbered  ? ” 

Many  generations  must  pass  away  before  there 
can  be  any  essential  agreement  among  men  who 
seek  either  for  the  origin  or  the  destiny  of  man  from 
the  light  of  science.  And  so  far  as  we  can  see,  the 


Introductory.  19 

past  history  and  the  future  prospects  of  the  race,  if 
we  are  to  depend  upon  science  alone  to  reveal  them, 
must  always  be  like  the  bridge  in  Mirza’s  vision 
that  had  dark  clouds  resting  upon  either  end. 
More  and  more  of  the  span  of  the  bridge  may  come 
into  view  to  those  who  gaze  upon  it  from  the  hill 
of  science,  but  the  abutments  that  mark  the  begin- 
ning of  the  human  race,  and  its  remotest  future, 
will  be  in  clouds  and  darkness  still. 

But  there  is  a central  question  that  relates  to 
the  present.  What  is  man?  If  this  question 
could  be  fairly  answered,  his  origin  and  destiny 
would  be  in  a measure  deducible  from  the  answer ; 
or  if  it  should  throw  no  clearer  light  upon  the  past, 
it  would  reveal  the  goal  towards  which  man  must 
move,  or  the  road  along  which  his  future  course 
must  lie  in  pressing  towards  that  goal. 

Amid  all  the  din  and  clamor  of  science,  which 
claims  to  give  both  the  light  and  guidance  which 
man  needs  as  well  as  every  other  means  of  human 
progress,  we  wish  to  know  what  the  HUMAN  is, — 
what  it  has  in  common  with  the  world  below  it, — 
what  it  has  in  its  own  right  as  its  peculiar  posses- 
sion,— what  there  is  in  man  to  be  ruled, — what 
there  is  in  him  having  power  to  rule. 

Again  then  we  come  to  the  task  of  analyzing 
human  nature  regardless  of  the  sneers  of  those  prac- 
tical philosophers  who  talk  of  “ the  folly  and  heavy 
guessing  of  Metaphysics,”  grouping,  as  they  gener- 
ally do  for  their  convenience,  under  this  much 
abused  term,  all  those  studies  that  relate  to  the 
higher  nature  of  man. 

If  we  would  improve  man,  we  must  know  what 


20 


Instinct, 


he  is, — what  powers  he  possesses  and  the  law  of 
their  development.  If  he  is  a being  of  physical  or- 
ganization alone,  let  us  understand  that ; and  then 
give  our  whole  strength  to  the  study  of  physiology. 
If  he  has  powers  that  are  independent  of  the  exist- 
ence of  this  physical  organization,  something  added 
to  it,  let  us  understand  that.  In  fine,  let  us  try  to 
understand  every  power  that  man  possesses,  its  use 
and  the  condition  of  its  best  activity. 

Those  who  would  reap  most  benefit  from  the 
laws  of  nature  must  learn  what  those  laws  are,  and 
the  methods  by  which  variable  combinations  can 
work  out  new  results,  through  invariable  laws.  The 
wise  engineer  while  apparently  contending  against 
nature,  always  works  with  her  and  succeeds  just  in 
proportion  as  he  obeys  her  laws.  The  wise  philan- 
thropist, or  social  scientist,  will  succeed  in  amelior- 
ating the  evils  of  society, — will  elevate  the  race  and 
secure  its  permanent  progress,  just  in  proportion 
as  he  understands  the  laws  of  human  life,  from  its 
lowest  manifestations  to  its  highest,  and  labors  to 
correct  its  mistakes  by  working  in  accordance  with 
its  own  laws. 

The  laws  of  human  life  and  its  conditions  of 
progress  are  as  fixed  as  the  laws  of  gravitation  and 
cohesion.  The  errors  and  ruin  of  life  arise  from 
the  power  of  man  as  a free  agent  to  trangress  those 
lav/s.  It  is  in  the  sphere  of  the  variable,  where  free 
personality  through  ignorance  or  perverseness,  fails 
to  supply  the  proper  conditions  of  progress  that  we 
find  the  troubles  of  society ; as  in  a fine  piece  of 
machinery,  we  find  ruin  when  an  ignorant  engineer 


hitroductory. 


21 


so  arranges  the  parts  that  the  power  which  should 
form  the  thread  and  web,  rends  and  destroys  the 
nice  adjustments  of  the  machine  itself.  If  a ma- 
chine is  to  do  its  full  measure  of  work,  its  parts 
must  so  move  that  as  little  power  as  possible  shall 
be  lost  in  operating  the  machine  itself,  and  its  rela- 
tion to  the  work  it  is  to  perform  must  be  as  direct 
and  as  accurate  as  it  is  possible  to  make  them.  To 
reach  this  result  somebody  must  understand  the 
machine.  The  same  is  true  in  regard  to  man.  He 
is  a machine  of  the  most  complex  nature  and  he  is 
also  the  engineer.  Of  all  the  exhibitions  of  igno- 
rance in  the  world,  the  most  common  and  the  most 
disastrous  in  its  consequences,  is  the  ignorance  of 
men  of  the  right  use  of  their  own  powers  and  of 
their  relations  to  the  work  which  it  naturally  falls 
to  their  lot  to  accomplish. 

We  recognize  man  first  as  an  animal.  What- 
ever higher  powers  may  dwell  in  the  body  of  man 
that  body  is  animal  in  its  orgin,  life  and  death. 
The  higher  nature  of  man  has  for  ages  found  dili- 
gent students.  And  the  body  has  revealed  to  sci- 
ence both  the  structure  and  function  of  its  organs  so 
fully  that  almost  every  tissue  and  vital  movement 
are  known.  The  welfare  of  the  body  is  now  gener- 
ally acknowledged  to  be  a condition  of  mental  pow- 
er. But  the  animal  life  and  animal  nature  have 
been  too  often  ignored  or  undervalued  in  the  study 
of  man’s  higher  nature.  It  has  been  deemed  by 
some  an  insult  to  man  to  give  him  the  instincts  of 
the  animal  as  the  basis  of  his  higher  life  or  to  as- 


22 


Instinct. 


sign  them  any  high  rank  as  instruments  of  human 
progress.  And  those  who  believe  in  the  creation  of 
man  by  a personal  God  have  been  slow  to  believe 
that  He  who  took  the  bow  in  the  clouds  existing 
from  the  creation,  as  the  appointed  symbol  of  his 
promise  to  the  race,  has  also  taken  animal  powers 
in  man  and  put  them  to  a higher  and  nobler  use 
than  in  any  of  the  tribes  below  him.  They  need  to 
study  the  great  plan  of  God’s  economy  in  creation 
to  learn  that  in  each  new  form  of  life,  nothing  new 
is  introduced  until  the  possibilities  of  the  old  forms 
have  been  exhausted.  The  hand  of  man  is  no  less 
wonderful  or  noble  because  it  is  foreshadowed  in- 
the  fin  of  the  fossil  fish  of  the  Silurian  age. 

As  in  the  body  of  man  we  find  the  same  sort  of/ 
organs  as  in  the  lower  tribes  but  fashioned  for  a 
higher  use  than  such  animals  can  need,  so  in  his 
supersensual  nature,  we  find  the  animal  powers 
ministering  to  a higher  life  than  those  tribes  ever 
possess.  If  there  is  a Comparative  Anatomy  there 
is  also  a Comparative  Psychology.  It  is  only  when 
the  comparison  between  men  and  animals  is  ex- 
haustively made  that  we  can  reach  that  which  is 
distinctive  of  man.  If  we  can  find  nothing  distinc- 
tive, then  must  we  acknowledge  him  to  be  an  ani- 
mal in  kind  differing  from  the  others  only  in  degree. 
If  we  would  escape  from  this  admission,  we  must 
begin  by  granting  to  his  animal  nature  all  that  be- 
longs to  it.  When  this  is  fairly  done,  what  re- 
mains we  may  claim  as  distinctively  human,  with 
some  hope  of  making  good  our  claim. 

In  selecting  Instinct  as  the  subject  of  the  pres- 


Introductory. 


23 


ent  course  of  lectures,  we  take  that  which  has  been 
considered  peculiarly  the  characteristic  of  the  ani- 
mal ; but  our  work  will  all  be  in  the  service  of  man. 
We  shall  inquire  into  the  nature  of  instinct,  that 
we  may  trace  with  more  clearness  the  operation 
of  instinctive  principles  in  our  own  constitution,  and 
be  able  to  give  them  their  due  consideration  in  all 
our  schemes  of  education  and  social  reform. 

We  meet  a formidable  difficulty  at  the  very  out- 
set in  the  common  forms  of  speech  and  in  the  sci- 
entific definitions  of  Instinct  and  Reason.  A wri- 
ter should  use  language  in  its  common  meaning  if 
he  can,  and  if  he  needs  new  words  or  new  shades 
of  meaning  for  old  ones,  he  ought  to  explain  his  in- 
novations fully  and  be  consistent  in  the  use  of  his. 
new  terms.  But  the  best  intentions  and  greatest 
care  will  seldom  secure  a writer  from  real  inconsist- 
ency in  the  use  of  terms  or  from  such  a use  of  them 
that  his  meaning  may  not  in  some  cases  be  misun- 
derstood, even  by  careful  readers.  When  words 
and  phrases  have  had  a fixed  meaning  with  us,  it  is 
difficult  to  constantly  give  a different  meaning  to 
them.  There  is  much  error  in  the  world  that  passes 
current,  because  it  comes  to  us  in  well-worn  formu- 
las of  speech,  as  counterfeit  money  passes  among 
common  people  more  readily  when  it  has  become 
soiled  by  the  fingers  of  the  hundreds  it  has  deceived, 
than  when  it  comes  fresh  from  the  printing-press. 
The  very  dirt  and  rents  are  marks  of  many  judg- 
ments in  its  favor,  and  none  but  an  expert  would 
pronounce  against  the  many  endorsements  of  gen- 
uineness which  it  bears.  It  is  to  our  mental  gear 


24 


Instinct. 


not  to  say  our  moral  convictions,  like  the  shock  of 
the  suddenly  stopping  car  to  the  body,  for  some 
bold  innovator  to  demolish  as  baseless  or  false,  some 
favorite  definition — some  good  old  form  of  speech 
in  which  our  thoughts  had  run  as  in  the  track  of 
truth. 

But  this  power  of  language  has  its  use.  When 
truth  has  taken  a particular  formula  of  words  for 
its  expression,  the  formula  alone  will  often  answer 
our  purpose ; and  we  can  use  it,  as  does  the  mathe- 
matician his  algebraic  formulas,  without  the  trouble 
of  verifying  them  in  every  operation.  It  be- 
comes one  then  who  enters  upon  any  investigation 
or  discussion  for  the  sake  of  truth,  to  guard  himself 
at  every  step,  lest  he  be  misled  by  old  formulas  or 
by  taking  advantage  of  accepted  formulas,  cover 
error  with  them,  deceiving  himself  and  perchance 
those  whom  he  attempts  to  instruct.  If  his  object 
is  simply  to  carry  a point,  the  more  he  can  bring 
his  new  doctrines  under  old  forms  of  speech  and 
his  errors  into  the  formulas  that  custom  has  stamp- 
ed with  the  sanction  of  truth,  the  better  will  he 
succeed. 

There  is  at  the  present  time  much  controversy 
in  the  scientific  world  not  only  because  men  seem 
determined  to  confine  the  Baconian  philosophy  to 
matter  alone,  but  because  they  insist  upon  using 
the  same  formulas  for  very  different  elements  in 
the  great  circle  of  truth.  The  sine  of  ninety  de- 
grees is  equal  to  radius,  but  the  tangent  of  ninety 
degrees  is  infinite,  and  any  mathematician  who  af- 
firms that  they  are  equal  simply  because  they  are 


Introductory. 


25 


related  to  the  same  sector  of  a circle,  or  tries  to  use 
the  formula  of  one  for  that  of  the  other,  will  waste 
his  own  labors  and  mislead  all  who  trust  in  him. 
There  is  one  part  of  the  quadrant  in  which  the 
tangent  equals  the  sine  of  ninety  degrees,  and  the 
formula  of  one  might  be  used  for  that  of  the  other 
without  essential  error.  But  after  passing  that 
point  they  differ  more  and  more  in  value,  until  at 
another  part  of  the  quadrant  no  number  is  suffi- 
ciently great  to  express  the  difference  between 
them.  The  change  in  the  comparative  value  of 
these  two  elements  is  analogous  to  the  divergence 
between  the  different  elements  in  man’s  nature, 
that  may,  under  certain  conditions,  be  expressed  by 
the  same  formulas,  but  which  demand  for  their 
full  treatment  modes  of  thought  and  formulas  of 
language  widely  different  from  each  other. 

As  I propose  to  lecture  on  Instinct  it  might  fair 
ly  be  claimed  that  I should  define  the  word  at  the 
outset.  If  I were  to  do  so,  few  of  my  audience 
would  agree  with  me  fully.  We  should  not  agree 
where  Instinct  begins  to  control  action  nor  where  it 
gives  place  to  another  guide.  Its  nature  and  office 
would  both  be  subjects  of  controversy.  Were  I to 
copy  the  best  definitions  ever  written  there  is  not 
one  of  them  that  some  of  us  would  not  consider  de- 
fective in  some  respects.  It  would  either  take  for 
granted  what  we  should  not  accept  or  it  would  deny 
directly  or  by  implication  what  we  are  ready  to  as- 
sume as  true.  But  we  may  be  guided  by  these  def- 
initions, provisionally,  treating  them  like  bills  before 


2 


26 


Instinct. 


our  Legislature,  which  may  be  altered  or  amended 
even  to  the  ‘‘  striking  out  of  all  but  the  enacting 
clause,”  and  substituting  entirely  different  bills  in 
their  place. 

According  to  Paley,  ’‘^Instinct  is  a propensity 
prior  to  experience  and  independent  of  instruction! 

Whately  says,  '‘'‘Instinct  is  a blind  tendency  to 
some  mode  of  action,  independent  of  any  consideration 
on  the  part  of  the  agent,  of  the  end  to  which  the  ac- 
tion leads  I' 

Hamilton  gives  this  definition,  ''  Instinct  is  an 
ageyit  which  performs  blindly  and  ignorantly  a work 
of  intelligence  and  knowledge! 

Either  of  these  definitions  will  serve  a good  pur- 
pose in  guiding  us  in  our  investigation.  We  ac- 
cept neither  of  them  as  complete.  We  shall  make 
no  attempt  to  define  Instinct  till  the  close  of  these 
lectures.  And  then  probably  instead  of  attempting 
a single,  simple  definition,  as  might  be  given  of  a 
single  force  or  mathematical  figure,  we  shall  have  to 
content  ourselves  with  an  enumeration  of  impulses 
and  methods  of  action  that  are  called  instinctive, 
because  they  come  neither  from  experience  nor  in- 
struction. 

We  must  assume  that  there  is  in  the  world 
something  which  we  may  call  matter,  force,  vitality, 
sensation,  voluntary  action.  Instinct  and  Reason. 
We  will  make  no  attempt  now  to  draw  the  dividing 
line  between  them  nor  to  determine  how  far  one  of 
them  can  be  resolved  into  another.  These  may  all 
be  regarded,  by  some,  as  different  manifestations  of 
the  same  thing ; but  good  usage  of  language  de- 


Introductory. 


27 


mands  of  us,  or  at  least  allows  us,  to  use  these 
words  as  the  names  of  distinct  things  and  as  terms 
so  well  understood  as  to  need  no  special  explana- 
tion, as  they  are  used  in  this  discussion.  Their 
meaning,  as  generally  understood,  is  sufficiently 
precise  for  our  present  purpose.  ^ 

As  it  would  be  agreed  by  all  that  Instinct  lies 
somewhere  in  the  field  of  vitality,  we  shall  trace 
that  in  all  its  manifestations,  that  we  may  find  just 
what  activities  there  are  in  the  plant,  in  the  animal, 
and  in  man.  Throwing  aside,  if  possible,  our  pre- 
conceived notions  of  the  difference  between  them, 
we  will  inquire  What  they  are  ? What  they  do  ? 
And  before  our  work  is  done,  we  may  be  able  to  see 
whether  there  are  distinct  planes  of  being, — planes 
differing  in  kind, — or  whether  all  manifestations  of 
vitality  merely  differ  in  degree  ; — whether  Instinct 
is  something  by  itself  as  a distinct  principle,  or  is  a 
mere  summation  of  powers  acting  in  a specific 
method  ; — whether  it  is  simply  an  extension  of  phys- 
iological function  on  the  one  hand,  or  the  nebulous 
form  of  intellect  and  reason  on  the  other. 

The  apparent  work  of  Instinct,  or  the  operation  "h 
of  the  instinctive  principles  of  action,  is  to  fit  the 
animal  to  the  world  ; to  enable  him  to  battle  for 
existence,  to  hold  his  place  in  spite  of  opposing 
forces  and  enemies, — in  fact,  to  make  the  forces  and 
products  of  nature  his  servants  so  far  as  they  are 
needful  for  his  perfection.  It  secures  this  by  put- 
ting him  at  once,  by  a spontaneous  manifestation 
of  impulse,  knowledge  and  skill,  into  the  needful  re- 
lations to  those  objects  in  nature  that  are  necessa- 


28 


Instinct, 


ry  for  his  individual  welfare  or  that  of  the  species. 
It  does  this  in  many  cases  with  almost  the  certain- 
ty of  the  operations  of  the  laws  of  inorganic  nature. 
Not  more  surely  does  the  stone  thrown  into  the 
air  come  to  the  ground,  or  water  seek  a level,  than 
the  bird  knows  its  time  for  nesting  and  the  materi- 
al and  fashion  which  mark  the  work  of  the  species. 
And  when  Instinct  varies  or  is  deceived,  as  some- 
times happens,  it  is  done  according  to  some  law  of 
the  creature’s  being,  by  the  introduction  of  some 
new  condition  ; as  the  stone  returning  to  the  earth 
may  be  turned  from  the  curve  which  gravitation 
alone  would  give  it,  by  the  current  of  wind. 

Instinct  begins  its  work  by  utilizing  structure 
and  function  of  organs.  Has  the  bird  a gland  for 
the  secretion  of  oil  ? She  knows  instinctively  how 
to  press  the  oil  from  the  gland  and  apply  it  to  the 
feather.  Has  the  rattlesnake  the  grooved  tooth  and 
gland  of  poison  ? He  knows  without  instruction 
how  to  make  both  structure  and  function  most  ef- 
fective against  his  enemies.  Has  the  silk-worm  the 
function  of  secreting  the  fluid  silk  ? At  the  proper 
time,  she  winds  the  cocoon  such  as  she  has  never 
seen,  as  thousands  before  have  done  ; and  thus 
without  instruction,  pattern  or  experience,  forms  a 
safe  abode  for  herself  in  the  period  of  transforma- 
tion. Has  the  hawk  talons  ? She  knows  by  in- 
stinct how  to  wield  'jthem  effectively  against  the 
helpless  quarry. 

But  it  is  not  structure  and  function  alone  that 
call  instinct  into  play.  There  are  certain  manifes- 
tations of  Instinct  that  are  marvellous — manifesta- 


Introductory, 


29 


tions  that  never  could  have  been  suggested  to  us 
by  the  study  of  the  structure  or  function  of  organs. 
It  is  a function  of  the  salmon  as  of  the  codfish  to 
bring  forth  eggs.  But  why  does  not  the  salmon 
deposit  her  eggs  in  the  salt  waters  where  she  loves 
to  swim  ? While  the  codfish  finds  her  breeding 
place  in  the  ocean,  the  salmon  leaves  the  ocean  and 
seeks  the  clear  cold  waters  of  the  fresh  streams  as 
the  place  for  depositing  her  eggs.  She  selects  the 
best  place  in  the  stream,  and  after  covering  her 
eggs  with  gravel  she  leaves  them  to  the  care  of  the 
elements.  She  has  done  the  best  in  her  power  for 
them  and  in  all  this  work  we  say  she  is  guided  by 
Instinct.  But  in  due  time  by  the  same  sort  of  spon- 
taneous impulse  and  knowledge  or  guidance,  her 
young  find  the  pathway  to  the  ocean  feeding 
grounds  without  the  parent’s  aid.  These  are  fair 
examples  of  instinctive  action,  or  of  spontaneous 
impulse,  knowledge  and.  skill,  which  are  generally 
spoken  of  as  the  operations  of  some  distinct  princi- 
ple in  the  animal. 

The  impulse,  that  arises  in  every  one  of  the  spe- 
cies at  a given  season  of  the  year,  or  at  a given  pe- 
riod of  its  own  development,  to  do  the  same 
thing — the  apparent  knowledge  by  which  acts  are  per- 
formed to  meet  coming  emergencies,  the  like  of 
which  the  animals  have  never  witnessed-the  skill 
in  working  that  comes  without  instruction  or  expe- 
rience— all  these  are  inscrutible.  So  much  of  all 
of  these,  as  is  needful  for  the  preservation  of  each 
species,  it  seems  to  have  as  an  original  outfit,  and 


30 


Instinct, 


that  IS  all  we  can  at  present  say.  For  convenience 
we  call  this  summation  of  spontaneous  powers  that 
extend  beyond  physiological  functions,  INSTINCT. 
This  Instinct  we  find  utilizing  both  structure  and 
function.  And  we  also  see  it  making  a broader 
manifestation  controlling  the  whole  being,  as  when 
the  fowl  hides  from  the  bird  of  prey  now  seen  for 
the  first  time,  and  the  migratory  birds  and  fishes 
know  their  appointed  seasons. 

In  the  manifestation  of  Instinct  in  the  relation  of 
the  sexes — in  the  provision  made  by  the  parent  in- 
sect for  its  young  which  it  will  never  see — in  the 
skill  with  which  every  organ  is  put  to  its  specific 
use,  with  the  same  celerity  and  accuracy  by  ani- 
mals of  the  same  species  from  age  to  age,  we  find 
some  of’the  most  interesting  fields  of  speculation. 
It  is  here  that  Natural  History  and  Speculative 
Philosophy  meet, — where  they  ought  not  to  meet 
as  opponents, — because  if  they  do,  one  of  them 
must  be  in  the  wrong, — but  as  allies  in  the  search 
for  truth,  in  unfolding  the  plan  of  creation,  in  set- 
ting forth  its  final  causes  and  the  varied  relations  of 
its  parts. 

But  if  Natural  History  and  Speculative  Philos- 
ophy are  to  meet  on  common  ground  and  join  as 
helpers  in  a common  work,  each  should  understand 
the  other  and  not  despise  the  materials  nor  the 
processes  which  the  other  is  compelled  to  use.  As 
to  their  materials,  the  two  departments  of  science 
differ  greatly.  And  in  the  clearness  and  precision 
of  its  processes.  Natural  History  can  certainly  claim 
wonderful  advances  within  a short  time.  This  gives 


Introductory, 


31 


it  the  tendency  to  claim  superiority  and  to  chal- 
lenge comparison.  It  is  sure  to  come  off  victor, be- 
fore those  guided  by  the  senses  alone.  For  while 
great  success  has  been  achieved  in  providing  mate- 
rials for  cabinets  and  in  all  fields  of  labor  where  the 
senses  are  the  chief  agencies  employed,  the  whole 
supersensual  world  seems  to  be  in  a deplorable 
state  of  confusion  to  all,except  to  those  philosophic 
minds  who  have  the  power  to  observe  order  in  the 
midst  of  seeming  chaos,  and  have  also  power  to  con- 
struct wholes  from  loose  and  disjointed  fragments. 
The  observers  of  the  supersensual  are  comparatively 
few,  and  they  are  seldom  young  men  ; for  the  natu- 
ral field  of  labor  of  the  young  lies  chiefly  in  the  re- 
gion of  sensible  objects.  There  is  therefore,  in 
general,  less  enthusiasm  and  display  among  the  stu- 
dents of  mind  and  morals  than  among  Botanists 
and  Zoologists.  There  is  in  the  study  of  the  su- 
persensual no  method  applicable  for  increasing  the 
natural  power  of  observation  with  such  appliances 
as  are  always  at  hand  for  physical  research  and 
which  so  impress  the  multitude.  Each  observer  is 
confined  mainly  to  himself  for  his  facts.  The  pe- 
riod of  childhood  he  can  explore  only  by  the  dim 
light  of  memory  and  by  inference.  In  the  whole 
realm  of  animated  nature  below  him  he  now  is,  and 
must  ever  remain,  entirely  ignorant  of  sensation 
and  will,  except  as  he  infers  their  nature  from  the 
study  of  himself  and  the  comparison  of  himself  with 
the  lower  orders  of  creation. 

This  comparison  of  the  supersensual  in  animals 
and  man  should  be  more  thorough  than  any  that 


32 


Instinct. 


has  yet  been  made  and  its  results  should  be  honest 
ly  accepted. 

The  comparison  of  man’s  anatomical  structure 
with  that  of  the  lower  orders  of  animals,  has  been 
most  perfect  and  satisfactory.  The  whole  verte- 
brate series  is  bound  together  with  such  homolo- 
gies of  structure  that  no  casual  observer  even,  can 
fail  to  recognize  the  unity  of  plan.  A careful  ex- 
amination of  the  structure  of  man  reveals  not  a sin- 
gle essential  bone  or  organ  that  is  not  found  in  the 
lower  members  of  the  vertebrate  group.  If  we  take 
man  as  the  perfection  of  the  vertebrate  type,  then 
it  is  proper  to  say  that  every  essential  organ  in  the 
structure  of  the  vertebrate  animals  is  simply  a mod- 
ification of  some  organ  found  in  man,  either  in  his 
mature  or  early  state.  This  comparison  has  been 
made  so  many  times  that  the  results  are  accepted 
as  those  products  of  science  which  no  man  of  com- 
mon intelligence  is  expected  to  deny.  If  there  is 
doubt  on  any  point,  the  materials  are  abundant  for 
re-examination  of  the  subject.  Every  bone,  tissue 
and  organ  in  the  human  body  can  be  compared  with 
the  corresponding  part  in  each  one  of  the  distinct 
vertebrate  types  within  a year,  by  hundreds  of  men 
in  different  parts  of  the  world.  A new  animal  dis- 
covered can  be  compared  with  those  already  known 
and  the  modification  of  every  organ  be  noted. 
This  correspondence  of  bone  and  muscle  seems  to 
say  that  Creative  Power  seeks  simplicity  through 
unity  of  plan.  He  makes  a hand,  a foot,  a wing  or 
fin  by  the  modification  of  the  sam'e  organ,  or  more 


Introductory. 


33 


strictly  upon  one  type.  So  fixed  is  this  rule  that 
if  some  vertebrate,  such  as  had  never  before  been 
seen,  were  to  be  now  discovered,  we  should  feel 
sure  that  its  organs  of  locomotion,  whether  for  run- 
ning, flying  or  swimming,  would  be  found  to  be 
fashioned  on  the  type  of  the  human  foot  and  hand. 
But  as  regards  the  supersensual  part  in  man  com- 
pared with  that  in  the  lower  animals,  we  find  among 
the  ablest  students  the  most  diverse  opinions — 
some  affirming  that  there  is  nothing  in  man  not 
found  in  the  lower  animals,-that  a dog  even,  has 
more  moral  nature  than  some  men : and  others  of 
our  able  philosophers  denying  to  man  even  the 
faintest  manifestation  of  those  instinctive  principles 
of  action  that  appear  in  the  brutes.  By  some  the 
brain  is  regarded  simply  as  the  organ  of  the  mind, 
which  as  an  incorporeal  existence  makes  the  brain 
its  servant,  as  the  engineer  controls  the  engine, 
which  may  be  broken,  defective  and  even  destroyed, 
while  the  engineer  remains  with  all  his  capacities 
perfect.  According  to  others,  mind  and  thought 
if  any  distinction  is  made  between  them,  are  both 
the  offspring  of  the  brain — the  result  of  the  forma- 
tion and  decomposition  of  brain  cells,  the  manifes- 
tation of  forces  evolved  by  a sort  of  higher  chemi- 
cal action,  as  heat  is  evolved  by  the  union  of  coal 
and  oxygen  or  the  electrical  current  is  set  in  motion 
by  a certain  interaction  of  metals  and  acids. 

While  among  those  who  have  studied  man  most 
carefully  there  is  an  essential  agreement  as  to  the 
facts  of  consciousness,  in  the  metaphysical  conclu- 
sions as  to  the  nature  of  being,  of  mind  and  the 


34 


Instinct. 


mental  processes  there  is  the  widest  diversity 
Nor  are  these  speculations  unimportant.  They  lie 
at  the  foundation  of  systems  of  education  and  mor- 
als. They  influence  us  in  training  the  young,  and 
in  our  estimate  of  life;  and  they  consequently  shape 
the  most  important  acts  of  our  life.  They  will  con- 
tinue to  influence  the  world  in  all  its  great  move- 
ments of  moral  and  social  reform. 

In  a field  where  the  thinkers  are  so  divided,  and 
where  nothing  but  careful  and  long-continued  ob- 
servation, accurate  analysis  and  cautious  generali- 
zations will  avail,  we  cannot  too  soon  begin  the 
work  nor  prosecute  it  too  zealously.  If  we  are  to 
reach  correct  results,  we  must  here  pursue  the  true 
scientific  method  of  gathering  facts  and  of  fearlessly 
following  the  conclusion,  which  those  facts  warrant 
wherever  they  may  lead. 

It  is  generally  conceded,  if  we  judge  from  the 
language  used  by  authors,  that  there  is  found  in 
the  animal  kingdom,  if  we  include  man.  Instinct^ 
Intelligence  and  Reason,  But  when  we  ask.  Are 
these  distinct  in  kind  or  do  they  differ  only  in  de- 
gree ? Are  brutes  possessed  of  instinct  alone  ? Has 
man  instinct  ? What  acts  are  instinctive  and  \yhat 
are  rational  ? The  answers  that  come  to  us  show 
that  the  best  thinkers  can  seldom  agree.  In  the 
majority  of  cases  they  differ  not  only  in  their  state- 
ments, but  when  those  statements  are  stripped  of 
all  possible  ambiguity,  it  is  found  that  there  is  a 
real  difference  in  belief. 

It  is  in  vain  for  us  to  attempt  to  bring  order  out 


Introductory. 


35 


of  this  chaos  by  definitions  or  by  any  mere  accura- 
cy of  statement.  Accuracy  in  language  is  impossi- 
ble while  the  thought  is  confused.  And  defini- 
tions, if  they  do  not  correspond  to  the  thing  de- 
fined, are  a constant  source  of  mischief.  The  mind, 
satisfied  with  its  definition,  accepts  that,  and  too  of- 
ten ignores  the  facts  that  ought  to  correct  the  defi- 
nition, or  misinterprets  them  to  bring  them  into 
unison  with  some  favorite  system  or  theory. 

Is  it  possible  then  to  treat  of  Instinct  without 
being  misled  by  the  word  ? — without  being  bound 
by  some  old  definition  that  shall  threaten  us  with 
destruction  when  we  pass  its  limits,  as  the  soldier  is 
liable  to  be  shot  when  he  passes  beyond  the  dead- 
line of  his  prison  grounds?  We  will  make  the 
attempt.  If  we  use  any  definition  of  Instinct,  we 
will  do  it  only  for  convenience,  as  we  have  inti- 
mated, holding  ourselves  free  to  search  for  facts 
and  to  give  them  an  honest  interpretation,  even 
if  they  force  upon  us  a new  definition  at  every  lec- 
ture. 

Guizot  has  well  remarked,  when  defining  the 
word  civilization,  that  it  is  the  popular  meaning  of 
this  word  that  we  must  investigate  ; and  then  adds, 
that  the  common  meaning  of  a word  is  much  more 
correct  than  the  scientific  meaning  which  has  been 
given  by  a few  persons  under  the  influence  of  a par- 
ticular fact  that  has  taken  possession  of  the  imagi- 
nation. The  same  is  true,  undoubtedly,  of  the  word 
Instinct.  It  is  the  popular  use  of  the  word  that 
must  for  the  present  serve  our  purpose  as  a name 
for  certain  phenomena  as  a whole,  but  it  is  Instinct 


3^ 


Instmct. 


as  a fact,  as  revealed  by  these  phenomena,  that  we 
must  investigate. 

It  is  our  work  then  to  inquire  what  animals  do 
as  sentient  beings,  as  voluntary  beings,  as  manifest- 
ing sensation,  choice,  volition,  contrivance  and  mem- 
or}q — to  inquire  how  far  an  animal  ever  improves 
by  experience, — in  a word,  to  inquire  what  are  the 
kinds  of  acts  that  animals  perform  and  what  are 
the  conditions  under  which  they  perform  them. 
Then  we  are  to  inquire  what  kinds  of  acts  man  per- 
forms and  the  conditions  under  which  he  performs 
them.  When  these  two  series  of  observations  are 
placed  side  by  side  and  a comparison  is  made  be- 
tween them,  we  shall  have  the  best  conditions  pos- 
sible for  deciding  what  are  the  characteristics  com- 
mon to  both  man  and  the  lower  animals,  and  the 
means  of  detecting  any  power  or  faculty  which 
either  possesses  as  his  peculiar  distinction.  From 
such  an  examination  much  might  be  hoped  for,  in 
rendering  the  lower  animals  more  subservient  to 
us  and  in  securing  to  them  proper  usage  ; but  its 
special  use  will  be  to  give  us  a fuller  knowledge  of 
our  own  capacities  and  powers  than  could  ever  be 
learned  from  consciousness,  or  any  study  of  man 
alone. 

No  attempt  will  be  made  to  gather  the  wonders 
of  Instinct,  many  of  the  accounts  of  which  were  in- 
vented or  embellished  for  entertaining  story-books  ; 
but  the  best  known  examples  of  instinctive  action 
will  be  taken,  such  as  can  in  most  cases  be  easily 
observed  in  any  part  of  the  world,  simply  to  show 
what  Instinct  is  in  its  varied  manifestations, — as  a 


Introdiictory.  37 

foundation  for  the  comparison  which  we  wish  to  in- 
stitute between  man  and  the  lower  animals. 

If  we  mistake  not,  we  shall  find  Instinct  to  be 
one  of  the  great  provisions  which  make  the  present 
condition  of  the  world  possible — an  absolute  neces- 
sity in  animal  life.  It  is  one  method  of  carrying 
out  a plan,  or  if  one  objects  to  this  phrase,  it  is  one 
part  of  a great  system  which  we  find  in  operation 
around  us.  This  system  is  a unity  in  its  operations 
— so  far  a unity  that  we  detect  the  same  method 
in  all  its  parts — in  parts  even  the  most  remote. 
That  we  may  see  the  relation  of  instinctive  acts  to 
other  operations  in  nature  and  the  use  of  Instinct 
itself,  we  shall  trace  the  analogies  of  Instinct  when- 
ever we  can  find  them.  Our  scheme  then  will  em- 
brace the  consideration  of  the  following  topics, — 

1.  The  operations  in  inorganic  nature  foreshad-- 
owing  Instinct. 

2.  The  operations  in  plant  life  simulating  In- 
stinct. 

3 . The  operations  in  aitimal  Physiology  simulating 
Instinct. 

4.  Lowest  forms  of  Instinct  for  the  welfare  of  the 
individual^  supplementing  physiology  or  function  of 
organs. 

5.  The  higher  forms  of  Instinct  for  the  welfare 
of  the  individual  animal ; as  knowing  its  enemies  with- 
out experience. 

6.  The  relation  of  Instinct  to  special  structure. 

7.  Instinct  as  necessary  for  communities  of  ani- 
mals. 

8.  Development  of  Instinct  by  parental  relation 


38 


Instinct, 


prompting  the  parent  to  provide  for  or  to  defend  its 
young. 

g.  Instincts  of  young  anunals  to  bring  them  into 
proper  relations  to  their  parents  and  the  world.  Also 
the  peculiar  instinct  of  one  stage  of  being  as  prepara- 
tory to  another  in  which  that  instinct  is  entirely  losty 
— as  in  the  case  of  many  insects. 

10.  Instinct  of  animals  demanding  certain  changes 
in  other  anhnals  or  plants  for  the  completion  of  its 
work. 

11.  Variatiofi  of  instinct  in  domestic  animals  and 
its  relation  to  man  as  making  such  anunals  useful. 

12.  Instinct  as  a law  for  the  animal  but  subject 
to  organic  or  functional  changes  in  the  system.  Cir- 

^ cumstances  under  which  instmct  may  be  deceived. 

Higher  character  of  animals.  Do  they  think 
and  reason  ? Have  they  intelligence  as  a guiding 
principle  or  subordinated  to  Distinct  ? 

14.  Instinct  in  man  growing  out  of  his  appetites 
— wholly  animal. 

1 5 . Instinct  in  its  relation  to  the  desires^ — the  ba- 
sis of  the  social  nature. 

16.  The  nature  of  instinctive  and  intuitive 
knowledge. 

17.  Moral  instincts.  The  distinction  between 
men  and  animals  and  the  directing  power  in  both. 

18.  Relation  of  instinct  to  prayer ^ faith  and  im- 
mortality. 

19.  Relation  of  the  subject  to  education^  govern- 
ment and  social  reform. 

While  this  scheme  gives  the  outline  of  thought 
to  be  presented  it  does  not  in  all  cases  show  the 


Introductory. 


39 


exact  order  in  which  the  topics  will  be  discussed. 
As  the  same  phenomena  appear  in  different  depart- 
ments of  nature  the  same  topics  will  appear  in  the 
discussion  whenever  the  subject  in  hand  aids  in 
their  illustration  or  needs  them  for  its  own.  In 
such  a field  there  is  scope  for  the  most  thorough 
research  and  analysis.  If  we  can  but  call  more 
careful  attention  to  these  departments  of  study  we 
may  hope  for  much  advantage  to  speculative  sci- 
ence and  practical  life. 


LECTURE  II. 


OPERATIONS  IN  INORGANIC  NATURE  AND  PLANT 
LIFE  THAT  SIMULATE  INSTINCT. 

Definitions  of  Paley,  Whately  and  Hamilton  considered. — The  ofidee 
of  the  Physical  Forces. — Life,  Sensation,  Volition.  — Method  of 
discussion  explained. — Positivism. — Instinct  part  of  a series  of 
agencies. — Life  depending  upon  the  position  of  the  earth  and  the 
changes  within  it. — Geologic  changes. — Activities  of  the  plant. — 
Instinct-like  provisions  of  plants. — Community  of  action. — Special 
provision  of  the  tree  for  itself. — Special  structures  and  functions. — 
Provision  made  by  plants  for  their  young. 

In  our  last  lecture  we  gave  three  definitions  of  In- 
stinct from  writers  of  acknowledged  authority, — 
Paley,  Whately  and  Hamilton. 

Definitions  might  be  multiplied,  but  those  are  as 
well  fitted  as  any,  for  provisional  use.  Let  us  see 
exactly  what  they  affirm.  Paley  says  there  is  a 
propensity  prior  to  experience  and  indeperident  of  in^ 
struction.  From  this  we  infer,  that  the  propensity 
is  to  do  something  which  might  by  some  beings  be 
learned  from  experience  or  that  might  be  learned 
by  them  from  another,  by  instruction.  But  we  are 
not  told  whether  the  being  that  acts  instinctively 


Whately's  DeJinitio7i.  41 

has  any  power  of  gaining  knowledge  by  experience 
or  from  instruction,  or  whether  it  has  any  compre- 
hension of  the  work  which  it  performs.  In  fact  the 
definition,  instead  of  settling  any  thing,  is  simply 
a dogmatic  assertion  from  which  questions  branch 
off  in  all  directions.  And  many  of  our  best  natu- 
ralists would  begin  by  denying  the  assertion  alto- 
gether. 

Whately  says,  Instinct  is  a tendency  to  some 
mode  of  action,  and  since  he  says  it  is  a blmd  ten- 
dency— we  suppose  he  argues  that  the  tendency 
comes  without  experience  or  instruction.  But  he 
adds  this  important  element  to  Paley’s  definition, 
that  this  tendency  is  independent  of  a7iy  consideration 
on  the  part  of  the  agent  of  the  end  to  which  the  action 
leads.  Here  then  we  have  another  very  sweeping 
assertion,  for  it  puts  every  instinctive  act  on  a level 
with  the  movement  of  water  under  the  influence  of 
gravitation,  or  the  movement  of  particles  in  the 
process  of  crystallization.  This  assertion  is  not 
made  of  certain  instinctive  acts  but  of  all.  Accord- 
ing to  this,  whenever  we  decide  that  any  act  is  in- 
stinctive, we  must  also  decide  that  the  animal  per- 
forming it  has  no  consideration  of  the  end  to  which 
the  action  leads,  however  complex  the  action  or 
wonderful  the  end  secured. 

This  definition  standing  by  itself  without  expla- 
nations would  give  rise  to  as  much  controversy  as 
that  of  Paley ; for  after  two  men  had  agreed  to  ac- 
cept it  they  still  might  be  very  far  from  agreeing 
whether  a specific  act  was  instinctive  or  not.  After 
agreeing  upon  the  definition,  perhaps  the  first  ob- 


42 


Instmct. 


ject  seen  would  be  a flock  of  birds  migrating  north. 
One  might  affirm  migration  to  be  with  birds  an  in- 
stinctive act,  and  therefore  that  the  birds  had  no 
consideration  of  the  object  of  their  long  journey, 
while  the  other  might  believe  that  they  went  under 
the  leadership  of  old  birds  that  had  learned,  by  the 
slowly  accumulated  experience  of  the  species,  where 
the  best  breeding  places  were  to  be  found  and  there- 
fore that  the  act  of  migrating  is  removed  from  the 
sphere  of  Instinct  to  that  of  Intelligence. 

But  both  of  these  authors  agree  in  this,  that  In- 
stinct is  simply  a tendency.  They  do  not  speak  of 
it  as  an  existence,  an  entity,  but  as  something  like 
a hahit  though  not  gained  by  the  individual  by  re- 
peated acts,  as  habits  are.  It  may  be  well  in  pass- 
ing to  say  that  there  are  able  thinkers  who  regard 
instinct  as  nothing  more  than  the  fixed  habits  of 
the  species,  accumulated  and  transmitted  after  be- 
coming fixed  by  long  continuance. 

When  we  consider  Hamilton’s  definition  we  have 
a new  element  still.  He  says  Instinct  is  an  agent. 
If  we  understand  this  language  at  all,  it  implies  that 
Instinct  is  an  entity,  something  as  distinct  in  exist- 
ence as  an  element  or  as  Reason,  to  say  the  least. 
And  we  are  inclined  to  think  that  this  is  the  com- 
mon notion.  We  have  frequent  attempts  made  to 
draw  the  dividing  line  between  Instinct  and  Rea- 
son, which  implies  that  by  such  writers  one  is  con- 
sidered as  much  a distinct  agent  or  agency  as  the 
other.  Both  terms  however  are  often  used  in  a 
very  indefinite  manner.  But  Hamilton  adds  that 
this  agent.  Instinct,  performs  blindly  a7id  ignorantly 


Hamilton's  Definition. 


43 


a work  of  intelligence  and  knowledge.  Here  we  have 
again  the  assertion  of  entire  ignorance  on  the  part 
of  the  actor  of  the  end  in  view  in  every  instinctive 
act ; but  that  the  work  is  still  one  of  intelligence 
and  knowledge.  We  suppose  this  simply  means 
that  the  work  performed  instinctively,  that  is,  with- 
out a comprehension,  by  the  actor,  of  the  end  aimed 
at,  is  such  as  would  commend  itself  to  the  judg- 
ment of  an  intelligent  and  wise  being  as  man  may 
become  by  experience  and  by  instruction  from  the 
experience  of  others.  We  must  here  anticipate  our 
discussion  by  saying  that  we  believe  there  are  such 
acts,  and  that  they  have  their  place  of  necessity  in 
the  great  system  of  means  by  which  organic  beings 
are  kept  on  this  globe. 

If  we  commence  with  gravitation,  the  lowest 
and  most  far-reaching  of  all  the  forces  that  modify 
and  control  this  universe,  we  can  pass  on  through  a 
series  of  agencies  till  we  reach  man,  who  has  power 
of  self-control  and  is  able  to  comprehend  the  mech- 
anism of  the  universe.  And  when  he,  through  this 
power  of  comprehension,  surveys  all  these  agencies 
below  him  in  their  relation  to  each  other,  he  finds 
each  one  of  them  doing,  in  its  own  sphere,  just  what 
Hamilton  asserts  to  be  the  work  of  Instinct.  That 
is,  in  their  relations  to  other  agencies,  they  are  do- 
ing just  what  a wise  being  would  approve  of,  be- 
cause, by  the  combined  action  of  all,  results  are 
reached  that  commend  themselves  to  Reason. 

It  is  gravitation  that  gives  form  to  the  globe, 
holds  it  in  place  and  moves  it  as  a part  of  a system 
of  worlds  around  the  Sun.  Cohesion  cements  the 


44 


Instinct. 


elements  together,  gathers  the  minerals  into  veins, 
holds  the  continents  in  place,  the  mountains  on 
their  rocky  thrones,  and  by  its  varying  strength 
gives  the  different  forms  of  matter  upon  the  globe. 
Chemical  affinity,  with  a magician’s  power,  joins  dif- 
ferent elements  to  produce  unnumbered  products, 
and  prepare  the  way  for  life.  Life  itself,  known 
only  in  the  development  of  some  germ,  answers  to 
the  call  of  the  forces  below  it,  and  then  in  turn 
makes  them  its  servants,  till  sensation  is  introduced. 
t From  ser^tion  we  have  a whole  train  of  reflex  ac- 
tions and  the  craving  of  the  appetites  that  tend  to 
preserve  the  organism  but  are  involuntary  in  their 
V action.  Then  one  step  higher  we  have  acts  which 
arise  from  spontaneous  impulse,  that  are  always  de- 
pendent upon  volition,  and  involve  skill  and  adapta- 
tion of  means  to  ends,  but  are  apparently  performed 
without  any  comprehension  of  the  end,  by  the 
> actor.  One  step  higher  still  we  have  acts  that 
originate  from  some  spontaneous  impulse  but  are 
plainly  modified  by  some  consideration  of  the  end 
or  some  comprehension  of  the  results.  All  of  these 
classes  of  acts  man  can  see  below  him.  And  these 
three  classes  of  acts  have  been  strangely  mingled 
together  in  treating  of  Instinct.  It  is  not  strange 
therefore  that  there  have  been  disagreement  and 
confusion. 

Most  authors  have  started  with  some  definition 
of  Instinct  like  those  given,  and  then  have  joined 
with  it  the  assertion  that  the  lower  animals  have 
no  Intelligence.  It  is  no  wonder  that  they  have 
found  difficulty  in  drawing  the  dividing  line  be- 


The  Earth. 


45 

tween  instinctive  and  rational  acts,  even  using  the 
word  rational  in  its  lowest  sense. 

All  the  agencies  from  gravitation  to  Instinct,  as 
thus  far  defined,  are  parts  of  one  plan,  and  they  all 
do  the  work  of  Intelligence  as  much  as  Instinct  it- 
self ; that  is,  a work  that  in  the  end  is  approved  by 
man — the  highest  Intelligence  on  the  globe. 

That  we  may  see  that  Instinct  is  nothing  pecu- 
liar as  to  its  method  of  action,  we  shall  briefly  trace 
the  action  of  the  agencies  below  it  that  are  condi- 
tional for  its  work.  And  we  therefore  invite  your 
attention  to  a brief  examination  of  the  first  two 
topics  of  the  program  presented  at  the  close  of  our 
last  lecture. 

The  operations  in  inorganic  nature  and  plant  life 
that  simulate  Instinct. 

It  was  the  notion  of  some  formerly  that  the 
earth  was  a living  thing.  The  balmy  breezes  and 
the  storms,  the  ceaseless  tides  that  mark  the  chang- 
ing level  of  the  oceans,  and  the  earthquakes  rending 
the  solid  ground,  were  all  the  living  movements  of 
this  huge  Behemoth,  the  earth.  This  poetic  notion 
has  no  place  in  the  prosaic,  scientific  beliefs  of  the 
present  day;  though  there  was  such  a semblance 
of  truth  as  its  foundation,  that  much  of  Its  lan- 
guage and  something  of  its  impression  still  remains 
even  with  the  most  cultivated.  In  figurative  lan- 
guage we  speak  of  the  earth  as  our  mother,  and 
there  is  significance  in  the  language  as  we  come 
from  her  bosom,  enjoy  the  boundless  provision 
which  she  has  made  for  our  wants,  and  then  are 
gathered  to  her  peaceful  rest.  But  it  is  only  in  po- 


46 


^nstinct. 


etic  language  and  by  that  power  of  association  that 
makes  a tree,  a brook  or  the  old  farm-house  dear  to 
us  as  a friend,  that  we  can  speak  of  the  earth  as  other 
than  a clod.  Through  all  this  mechanism  and  the 
forces  by  which  man  is  formed  of  the  dust  of  the 
earth  and  his  wants  provided  for,  we  may  recognize 
the  power,  wisdom  and  skill  of  a Personal  Being. 
We  may  do  the  same  in  the  manifestations  of  ac- 
knowledged Instinct  in  animals  and  the  affections  in 
man  ; since  they  all  form  parts  of  a system  and  of  such 
a system  as  the  wisdom  of  man  approves  of — 
such  as  he  cannot  refer  to  chance  nor  to  this  clod 
of  earth,  with  all  its  elements  and  forces.  But  all 
such  questions  as  to  chance,  design,  personality  and 
its  attributes  manifested  through  the  works  of  na- 
ture, belong  to  Natural  Theology,  with  which  we 
have  nothing  now  to  do. 

For  our  present  discussion  we  inquire  simply  for 
manifestations ; and  we  do  not  propose  to  trace 
those  manifestations  farther  than  to  the  agent  or 
being  in  which  they  appear.  Our  first  question  in 
every  case  will  be.  What  is  ? not,  How  came  it  so  ? 
How  is  the  earth,  the  plant,  the  animal  and  man 
constituted?  Not,  How  came  they  to  be  so  con- 
stituted ? 

For  the  purposes  of  our  present  inquiry  we  may 
believe  that  all  things  began  to  exist  a century  ago, 
or  that  they  have  existed  for  an  indefinite  cycle  of 
ages.  Questions  of  origin  are  proper  subjects  of 
investigation,  but  they  have  only  an  incidental  bear- 
ing upon  our  present  discussion.  Such  questions 
may  arise  in  the  progress  of  our  investigations,  but 


Positive  Pliilosophy.  47 

we  shall  not  seek  for  them  nor  feel  bound  to  attempt 
their  answer. 

Shall  we  then  free  ourselves  of  all  preconceived 
notions  of  creation — of  development,  of  Theology — 
of  how  things  ought  to  he — or,  at  least,  leave  them 
for  future  discussion  and  apply  ourselves  to  the  task 
of  learning  what  is — in  the  department  of  nature 
which  we  propose  to  investigate  ? If  we  can  do  this, 
we  shall  gain  for  ourselves  all  the  good  which  Pos- 
itive Philosophy  has  ever  had  to  offer  as  a guide  in 
science,  without  committing  ourselves  to  its  dog- 
mas. And  this  much  should  be  said  in  favor  of 
Positivism,  that  its  method  is  the  only  true  one  for 
approaching  every  natural  science.  Whether  the 
human  mind  can  stop,  or  ought  to  attempt  to  stop, 
within  the  limits  which  Positive  Philosophy  pre- 
scribes for  it,  is  a very  different  question. 

Will  you  allow  me  then,  for  convenience  of  lan- 
guage, to  speak  of  the  earth  with  all  its  elements, 
the  stars  and  planets,  as  all  acting  by  a power  of 
their  own  to  produce  the  varied  results  that  are 
naturally  ascribed  to  them  ? But  these  results  as- 
cribed to  them  are  meaningless  to  us  unless  they 
have  some  known  connection  with  an  end.  And 
an  end  or  purpose  either  by  itself  or  as  part  of  a se- 
ries of  purposes,  is  always  apprehended  by  us  as 
having  relation  to  sentient  beings. 

\ye  recognize  then  in  the  operations  of  inorgan- 
ic nature  certain  provisions  for  organized  beings — 
beings  that  can  grow,  flourish,  languish  and  die. 
The  full  provision  consists  of  a mutual  adaptation 
of  the  being  and  the  world  to  each  other.  It  is  a 


48 


Instinct. 


maxim  accepted  almost  without  a dissenting  voice, 
that  animals  provide  for  themselves  by  Instinct. 
Instinct  seems  to  be  regarded  as  something  that 
has  power  to  lay  the  world  under  contribution  for 
its  possessor’s  good.  It  has  been  considered  quite 
too  much  by  itself,  rather  than  as  a part  only  of 
that  complicated  series  of  adjustments  by  which  liv- 
ing beings  are  kept  upon  the  globe.  How  small  a 
part  it  plays  among  the  lower  animals,  and  the  rank 
of  its  work,  will  be  best  understood  by  understand- 
ing the  whole  machinery  of  which  it  is  only  one 
wheel — a part  essential  to  the  range  of  animal  life 
upon  the  globe,  but  still  utterly  valueless  were  there 
not  a more  complicated  machinery  or  more  com- 
plicated parts  of  the  same  machine  in  constant  op- 
eration. Instinct  alone  would  be  like  the  loom  of 
the  cotton-mill  with  no  card  or  spinning-frame  to 
prepare  material  for  its  work.  It  is  in  the  inorgan- 
ic world,  in  the  vegetable  kingdom  and  in  the  anat- 
omy and  physiology  of  the  animal  system  that  we 
find  the  supplementary  parts  of  that  nicely-adjusted 
machine  which  we  call  Nature. 

The  earth  is  clothed  with  plants,  the  rivers,  lakes 
and  oceans  have  their  share  of  vegetable  life.  And 
rising  higher  still  on  the  land  and  swarming  in  the 
waters,  are  the  varied  forms  of  the  animal  kingdom. 
We  speak  of  animals  as  adapting  themselves  to  the 
world  by  Instinct,  and  of  the  plants  as  finding  their 
places  by  some  law  of  distribution.  All  this  is  true. 
But  the  immediate  agencies  that  attract  our  atten- 
tion in  both  cases  are  only  a part,  and  a small  part, 


Conditions  of  Life, 


49 


of  the  agencies  that  secure  the  result.  How  futile 
would  be  the  keenest  Instinct  of  animals,  and  how 
useless  all  the  machinery  in  the  vegetable  kingdom 
for  the  distribution  of  plants,  if  the  earth  itself  were 
not  a preserver  of  both  animals  and  plants  by  the 
balance  of  its  forces  and  the  ready  yielding  of  its 
elements  for  their  protection  and  support ! 

We  cannot  tell  what  compensations  there  may 
be  on  other  planets  to  make  such  life  as  our  earth  has 
possible  on  them,  or  what  forms  of  life  may  be  fitted 
to  flourish  under  their  physical  conditions ; but  the 
constitution  of  our  earth  we  can  understand,  and 
the  capabilities  of  all  living  forms  both  of  plants 
and  animals  we  are  able  to  gauge.  If  we  cannot 
mark  the  exact  power  of  endurance  of  each  kind, 
we  can  set  a limit  of  cold  and  heat  beyond  which 
no  living  thing  could  exist.  A nearness  to  the  sun 
that  should  give  us  a temperature  of  three  hundred 
degrees  in  every  portion  of  the  globe  would  render 
the  existence  of  every  known  form  of  life  now  upon 
our  earth  impossible.  A temperature  of  zero  con- 
tinued for  ages  would  bring  all  oceans  to  solid  ice, 
and  in  the  end  make  the  earth  a barren  waste. 

Let  the  earth  then  wander  from  her  path  and 
approach  the  sun  until  she  circles  far  within  the  or- 
bit of  Mercury,  or  let  her  forget  the  centripetal 
force  and  extend  her  path  to  the  outer  verge  of  the 
solar  system  ; in  one  case  she  would  become  a blaz- 
ing ball  until  wrapped  in  the  terrible  mantle  of 
oceans  changed  to  steam  ; in  the  other,  earth  and 
water  would  be  changed  to  solid  stone  and  the  sum- 
mer’s cold  would  exceed  the  deadly  breath  of  arctic 
3 


50 


Instinct, 


winter  in  the  depth  of  its  polar  night.  How  pow- 
erless every  form  of  life  would  be  under  such  chang- 
es ! The  adaptation  of  the  plant,  the  Instinct  of 
the  animal,  the  forethought,  the  wisdom  and  science 
of  man  would  be  without  avail,  and  all  forms  of  life 
would  as  surely  perish  as  the  nestlings  of  the  bird 
or  the  tender  infant  would  perish  without  a parent's 
care. 

The  young  bird  just  raises  its  head  and  opens 
its  bill  to  be  fed.  Without  the  responsive  care  of 
the  mother  it  must  die.  Little  more  than  this  act 
of  the  young  bird,  in  the  series  of  acts  necessary  for 
its  support,  is  the  act  of  the  most  cunning  Instinct 
or  of  human  wisdom  itself  compared  with  all  the  la- 
bors of  mother  earth  to  supplement  their  acts  in 
sustaining  life  or  securing  enjoyment.  The  earth 
completes  her  circuit  round  the  sun  and  gives  each 
year  the  conditions  of  some  form  of  life  from  pole 
to  pole.  She  supplements,  on  a grand  scale,  the 
structure,  function  and  Instinct  of  all  the  tribes  that 
dwell  upon  her.  No  matter  now  how  all  these  ad- 
justments were  secured.  Structure  and  function 
and  Instinct  are  adapted  to  the  conditions  of  the 
globe,  and  all  of  thpse  together  secure  or  make  pos- 
sible the  forms  of  life  that  now  exist.  And  what  a 
multitude  of  conditions  must  combine  in  the  struct- 
ure and  movements  of  the  earth  itself  to  foster  the 
wealth  of  life  which  she  lovingly  bears  on  her  bos- 
f om  ! In  the  summer  months  she  cares  for  the 
northern  zone.  She  wakes  to  life  the  sleeping 
germs,  the  waiting  buds  and  bulbs,  by  lengthening 
the  day  and  wooing  the  vertical  sun  as  the  mother 


Provisions  for  Life, 


51 


bird  with  patient  watching  warms  to  life  the  egg 
within  the  nest.  But  when  the  sun  has  quickened 
life,  the  office  of  the  earth  has  but  just  begun,  as 
the  work  of  the  mother  bird  begins  in  earnest  when 
the  hungry  brood  call  for  food. 

The  quickening  of  the  thousand  forms  of  life, 
from  bud  and  root  and  seed  seems  the  signal  to  the 
earth  for  renewed  activities  on  every  side  to  supply 
them  with  the  means  of  growth.  In  the  soil  she  sets 
to  work  a laboratory  so  wonderful  that  all  the  science 
of  the  world  cannot  equal  the  perfections  of  its 
operations.  She  there  combines  the  gases,  gives 
up  the  richness  of  her  rocks  and  forms  the  food  on 
which  plants  can  alone  exist.  Then  through  the 
thousand  pores  she  draws  the  food  in  contact  with 
the  rootlets  that  are  eager  to  drink  it  in.  In  the 
air  she  brings  to  every  leaf  a supply  for  its  thou- 
sand hungry  mouths.  At  night  she  distills  the  re- 
freshing dew,  and  anon  she  brings  up  the  thick  wa- 
ter cloud  that,  descending  in  the  rain,  gives  verdure 
to  the  field  and  forest  and  springs  among  the  hills. 
Who  can  contem^plate  the  machinery  by  which  life 
is  sustained  for  a single  summer  and  not  be  struck 
with  the  wonderful  provisions  in  inorganic  nature, 
a single  one  of  which  failing  no  adjusting  power  of 
animals  or  plants  could  save  them?  That  chemis- 
try of  soils  and  air, — that  mechanism  of  attraction, — 
that  machinery  of  evaporation  and  transportation 
and  condensation  must  all  be  kept  in  constant  oper- 
ation to  secure  this  one  result,  the  perpetuation  of 
life  on  the  globe.  And  how  wonderfully  alike  is 
the  sum  of  all  these  agencies  from  year  to  year ! 


52 


Instinct. 


The  winds  blow  when  and  where  they  list — the 
days  of  wet  and  drought  and  heat  and  cold  no  one 
can  foretell.  But  at  the  end  of  the  year,  the  result 
of  all  these  operations  is  found  to  be  near  the  re- 
sult for  all  other  years — to  come  so  near  to  the  or- 
dinary range  of  climatic  change  that  it  may  with 
truth  be  said  that  seed-time  and  harvest  never  fail. 

Nor  is  the  earth’s  work  finished  when  this  com- 
plicated machinery  within  her  soil  and  atmosphere 
has  covered  the  fields  and  forests  with  their  yearly 
fruits.  When  the  plants  have  provided  for  them- 
selves in  ways  which  we  shall  describe,  through  this 
agency  of  the  earth,  she,  like  a careful  mother,  pro- 
vides for  their  winter’s  sleep.  In  northern  climes 
the  water  takes  the  feathery  form  of  snow,  and  like  a 
covering  of  down  protects  the  tender  plants  and  roots 
so  that  many  forms  are  preserved  that  but  for  this 
protection  would  be  destroyed  or  confined  to  more 
southern  lands.  While  northern  life  is  sleeping, 
the  same  forces  that  once  acted  upon  it  are  provid- 
ing for  the  southern  zones.  If  we  go  back  to  geo- 
logic ages  the  lesson  is  the  same.  The  provision 
was  the  same  in  kind  as  now  appears,  but  each  geo- 
logic age  was  itself  a provision  for  those  that  were 
to  follow — and  all  of  them  were  preparatory  for  the 
present.  While  the  earth  supplied  the  wants  of 
the  tribes  that  held  possession  of  her,  in  each  of  her 
unmeasured  eras,  she  was  providing  as  by  a demi- 
urgic Instinct  for  the  present  generations.  No 
matter  now  what  were  the  forces  employed,  no 
matter  whether  all  this  work  is  the  wild  sport  of 
chance  or  the  ordaining  of  Infinite  Wisdom.  In 


Geologic  Change. 


53 


either  case  the  result  is  plain,  and  such  a one  that 
all  must  admit  that  the  structure  of  the  earth  and^ 
all  its  surroundings  justify  themselves  to  reason  as 
a fit  provision  for  such  a being  as  man  is.  As  he 
progresses  in  knowledge  he  not  only  does  better  for 
himself,  but  he  discovers  new  adaptations  of  this 
physical  universe  to  his  wants.  Every  fracture  of 
the  rocks,  every  folding  stratum,  every  vein  of  met- 
al, every  mineral  deposit  and  every  step  by  which 
oceans  were  bounded,  mountain  chains  thrown 
up,  water  sheds  determined,  river  channels  cut  and 
springs  planted  among  the  hills,  all  these  labors 
of  the  earth,  seem  to  have  been  as  truly  for  her 
children — for  every  living  thing — as  the  instinctive 
work  of  animals  is  for  their  young  which  they  pro- 
vide for,  though  perchance  are  never  to  see. 

Thus  far  we  have  spoken  of  the  earth  as  though 
caring  for  organic  beings  as  the  mother  cares  for 
her  children.  In  all  the  changes  of  the  earth  there 
have  been  results  that  simulate  the  work  of  Instinct, 
and  simulate  it  so  closely  that  many  changes  in  the 
inorganic  world  supplement  the  operations  of  life, 
as  though  the  Physical  Forces,  Physiological  Forces 
and  Instinct  took  counsel  together  in  caring  for 
every  living  thing,  and  each  took  up  the  task  at  an 
appointed  time.  One  responds  to  the  other,  and  so 
completely  do  they  do  this  that  it  is  difficult  in  all 
cases  to  say  which  we  should  most  admire  in  the 
parts  they  play  in  carrying  on  the  work.  As  the 
young  of  the  animal  responds  to  the  parent's  In- 
stinct to  secure  its  aid,  so  do  the  various  tribes  of 
plants  respond  to  inorganic  nature. 


54 


Instinct, 


In  the  changes  of  the  inorganic  world  we  recog 
nize  no  care  for  itself.  There  is  nothing  in  itself  to 
be  cared  for.  We  see  no  purpose  except  in  connec- 
tion with  life  or  in  relation  to  it.  And  however 
vague  our  notion  of  Instinct  may  be,  we  always  rec- 
ognize in  it  some  purpose,  and  that  purpose  as  hav- 
ing relation  to  life.  We  may  then  readily  recog- 
nize operations  in  inorganic  nature  having  reference 
to  plants,  their  preservation  or  growth,  while  there 
is  no  possibility  of  recognizing  such  care  in  the 
globe  itself  for  its  own  sake  or  for  the  sake  of  any 
of  its  parts.  We  do  not  see  how  Infinite  Wisdom 
even  could  devise  any  thing  for  the  good  of  inor- 
ganic nature  or  any  part  of  it.  The  conditions  of 
receiving  good  are  found  only  in  living  beings. 

But  in  the  plant,  a living  being,  we  may  recog- 
nize a provision  for  itself,  because  in  it  is  a life  to  be 
preserved,  and  certain  conditions  are  to  be  secured 
for  the  best  manifestation  of  that  life.  The  plant 
also  may  have  relations  to  the  animal  kingdom, 
making  for  it,  or  some  portion  of  it,  instinct-like  pro- 
visions, as  inorganic  nature  has  made  for  the  plant. 

We  have  here  also  in  the  plant  an  entirely  new 
field  of  activities — those  growing  out  of  real  paren- 
tal relation.  The  tree  has  not  only  to  provide  for 
itself  but  for  the  thousand  young  plantlets  set  free 
in  its  seeds,  each  one  fitted  to  become  a new  centre 
of  life  and  representative  of  the  species.  We  have 
then  in  the  plant  all  those  activities  that  secure  in 
the  vegetable  kingdom  the  same  ends  which  in  the 
animal  kingdom  are  usually  secured  by  Instinct — 
care  of  the  individual  and  the  production  and  care 


Adaptation  of  Plants. 


55 


of  young  for  the  preservation  of  the  species.  For 
convenience  in  illustrating  these  activities  we  shall 
speak  of  the  plant  as  sentient. 

The  curious  processes  by  which  every  species 
adapts  itself  to  the  world  may  be  structural  or  func- 
tional ; but  a plan  is  so  readily  recognized  and  the 
results  are  reached  by  such  complicated  operations, 
all  moving  harmoniously  together,  that  every  ob- 
server must  be  struck  with  the  close  imitation  of 
voluntary  action — of  instinctive  foresight  and  skill 
in  adapting  means  to  ends.  We  have  this  apparent 
foresight  and  skill  manifested  to  some  extent  in  al- 
most every  plant  that  clothes  the  earth,  and  almost 
every  species  has  manifestations  of  contrivance  pe- 
culiar to  itself. 

The  study  of  the  instinct-like  provisions  in  the 
growth  of  plants  and  bodies  of  animals  will  prepare 
us  to  understand  that  acknowledged  Instinct,  in  its 
lowest  forms,  simply  carries  the  work  of  life  one 
step  farther  through  volition,  than  mere  structure 
and  function  could  possibly  do. 

The  best  known  trees — the  oak  or  apple — will  af- 
ford ample  illustration  of  provisions  for  themselves 
and  young  that  simulate  the  work  of  Instinct. 

The  oak,  that  must  brave  the  storms  for  centu-V 
ries,  sends  out  its  thickened  roots  swelling  high 
from  the  trunk,  like  buttresses  to  a castle  wall,  but 
firmer  in  position  and  better  balanced  than  any 
ever  fashioned  by  the  wisest  architect.  The  Eddy- 
stone  light-house,  that  defies  the  power  of  the  sea, 
was  fashioned  by  its  great  builder,  Smeaton,  from 
the  study  of  the  oak.  Well  may  this  tree  be  taken 


56 


Instinct. 


as  the  symbol  of  strength.  Every  limb  is  banded 
with  swollen  rings  of  gnarled  and  knotted  fibre. 
The  work  is  done  for  centuries,  and  every  year  adds 
new  supports  to  meet  the'  increasing  weight  from 
growth.  But  this  work  is  all  varied  as  the  exi- 
gencies of  the  case  demand.  The  oak  upon  the 
hill-side,  exposed  to  every  wind,  builds  its  base 
broader,  springs  every  buttress  deeper,  and  strength- 
ens most  the  side  that  must  bear  the  constant  at- 
tack, All  this  is  the  law  of  its  growth,  says  one. 
Certainly  it  is,  but  that  law  of  growth  provides,  like 
the  law  of  Instinct,  for  the  preservation  of  the  indi- 
vidual according  to  the  conditions  which  are  to  be 
met.  There  is  in  the  organism  a certain  amount  of 
flexibility,  enabling  it  to  meet  the  varying  condi- 
tions, and  an  actual  change  according  to  the  condi- 
tions, as  certain  and  complete  within  certain  limits 
as  though  sensation  and  volition  were  agencies  in 
the  work. 

Every  tree  is  a community  of  individuals,  and 
the  trunk  is  the  common  work  of  all  the  buds  and  for 
their  use,  as  the  coral  dome  is  for  the  coral  polyps,  or 
the  hornet’s  nest  is  for  the  community  of  hornets. 
The  coral  dome  is  the  product  of  growth  and  the 
nest  is  the  work  of  Instinct;  but  they  both  have 
the  same  relation  to  a community,  they  are  the 
joint  product  and  the  joint  property  of  all  the  indi- 
viduals that  labored  or  were  concerned  directly  or 
indirectly  in  their  production.  As  the  coral  polyp, 
each  working  for  itself,  aids  by  the  law  of  its  growth 
to  build  up  a structure  for  the  benefit  of  the  whole 
colony,  so  do  the  oak  buds  by  the  law  of  their 


Instinct-like  Work. 


growth  build  up  the  trunk  and  all  the  machinery 
of  the  roots  for  the  benefit  of  the  thousands  of  in- 
dividual plants  or  buds  that  make  a full  grown 
tree.  In  the  same  way,  but  under  the  impulse  and 
guidance  of  Instinct,  do  social  animals,  like  the  hor-  9 
net  and  beaver,  build  nests  and  dams  for  the  com- 
mon good. 

Since  the  tree  is  fixed  to  one  place  and  yet  must 
feed  mainly  upon  the  products  of  the  soil,  it  pro- 
vides for  itself  anew  every  year  organs  for  feeding, 
by  increasing  its  surface  of  root  by  the  formation 
of  fibrils  that  penetrate  the  soil  in  all  directions. 
The  food  of  the  tree  consists  of  the  salts  and  gases 
in  solution.  As  these  substances  are  carried  down 
by  abundant  surface  rains,  or  drawn  up  by  capilla- 
ry attraction,  they  cannot  escape  the  eager  rootlets 
that  sweep  the  soil  in  all  directions  by  their  fixed 
net-work,  as  completely  as  the  coral  polyp  and  oth- 
er forms  of  animals  sweep  the  waters  with  their  ten- 
tacles. 

In  the  spring  time  also  the  tree  puts  out  its 
wealth  of  leaves  to  gather  additional  food  from  the' 
air.  And  what  ample  provision  is  made  for  carry- 
ing on  this  work ! What  apparent  forethought  and 
wisdom  do  we  here  find  in  the  economy  of  the  tree  ! 
The  leaf  not  only  gathers  crude  materials  from  the 
air,  but  it  is  the  laboratory  in  which  all  materials 
taken  from  both  earth  and  air  are  elaborated  and 
fitted  for  building  up  the  tree  in  all  its  parts.  The 
material  that  forms  the  leaf  must  itself  be  first  elab- 
orated. How  shall  the  tree  without  leaves  clothe 
itself  with  its  acres  of  foliage  ? It  does  this  by  a fore- 
3* 


% 


58 


Instinct. 


sight  which  closely  imitates  the  higher  provisions 
made  by  Instinct.  Near  the  close  of  each  season 
there  is  elaborated  by  every  tree  food  that  is  not 
then  used  but  stored  up  in  its  tissues  for  a day  of 
need.  That  time  of  need  is  the  next  spring,  when 
the  new  generation  of  leaves  suddenly  appears,  un- 
folding as  garlands  of  beauty  upon  every  tree  and 
shrub,  but  having  in  addition  to  their  beauty  of 
form  and  color  for  adorning  the  earth,  the  more  im- 
portant office  of  building  up  the  tree  and  preparing 
for  flowers  and  fruit  that  without  the  leaf  would 
wither  and  fall  for  want  of  food.  Now  it  is,  as  a 
first  step  in  the  work  of  the  new  year,  that  the  ma- 
terial prepared  beforehand  by  the  tree  and  safely 
kept  in  its  tissues  during  the  winter  months,  is 
called  into  requisition  for  leaf-making.  In  vain 
would  the  spring  sunshine  and  showers  soften  the 
sward  and  stimulate  the  buds,  and  quicken  the 
roots  to  gather  materials  from  the  soil — the  tree 
would  die  in  the  midst  of  plenty  and  with  every 
outward  condition  in  favor  of  its  life,  had  it  not 
wisely  stored  up  material  already  elaborated  for  the 
making  of  leaves.  When  they  are  once  unfolded, 
the  earth  and  air  are  both  laid  under  continued  con- 
tribution to  furnish  all  the  products  of  the  year. 
And  when  the  layer  of  woody  fibre  has  been  added 
to  the  tree,  the  fruits  brought  to  their  perfection 
and  the  buds  set  and  sealed  with  cunning  workman- 
ship, the  tree  lays  by  a store  of  food  for  the  growth 
of  those  buds  which  are  to  enliven  another  year,  as 
certainly  as  the  instinct-guided  animal  ever  made 
provision  for  its  young. 


Apparent  Forethought. 


59 


This  apparent  forethought  in  preparing  materi- 
als and  storing  them  for  a time  of  need,  is  not  man- 
ifested by  the  trees  alone,  but  in  a greater  or  less  de- 
gree it  is  exercised  by  every  plant  that  grows — 
most  manifest  is  it  in  those  that  live  more  than  a 
single  year. 

What  wonders  are  performed  beneath  our  very 
feet ! If  we  could  look  beneath  the  thick  woven 
sward  of  the  meadows,  or  roll  back  the  decaying 
leaves  of  the  forest,  or  pluck  up  the  thickened  root- 
stocks of  the  water  lily  and  kindred  forms  from  their 
oozy  beds  beneath  the  shallow  lakes,  we  should  find 
in  every  place  evidence  of  instinct-like  forethought 
among  the  plants  and  provision  for  their  future 
wants. 

When  the  frost  of  autumn  and  ice  of  winter 
have  covered  the  earth  with  death,  so  that  to  the 
eye  there  seems  to  be  but  mere  remnants  of  wither- 
ed grass  and  herbage,  we  still  wait  in  confident  ex- 
pectation that  spring  will  wake  new  forms  to  sud- 
den life  from  hidden  germs,  as  by  enchantment.  In 
roots  of  grass  and  bulb  of  lily,  in  all  the  thousand 
store-houses  beneath  the  soil,  the  busy,  prudent 
plants  have  laid  up  their  provisions  ready  for  instant 
use — not  to  preserve  life  in  winter — but  for  their 
spring’s  work  in  bringing  sudden  beauty  of  leaf  and 
flower  upon  the  earth,  when  wakened  to  activity 
from  their  winter’s  sleep.  They  answer  to  the  call 
of  the  great  magician,  the  sun,  whose  touch  dis- 
solves as  by  enchantment  the  flinty  soil  and  palsy- 
ing power  of  winter ; and  now  with  eager  haste  they 
utilize  the  stores  of  food  which  they  carefully  re- 
served the  year  before, when  they  seemed  to  be  liv- 


6o 


Instinct. 


ing  to  the  extent  of  their  means.  There  is  no  such 
foolish  extravagance,  in  the  plant  economy,  as  liv- 
ing to  the  full  extent  of  income  each  year,  except 
when  the  time  has  come  for  the  plants  to  pass  away 
and  then  with  true  parental  Instinct  they  bequeath 
all  they  possess  to  their  children  ; which  bequest  is 
always  found  to  be  just  enough  to  start  the  young 
plantlets  well  in  life,  till  large  enough  to  work  and 
gather  materials  for  themselves.  All  the  wealth  of 
beauty  in  early  spring — the  green  blade  of  grass — ■ 
the  fragrant  Arbutus  of  the  hill-side  and  the  golden 
Caltha  by  the  brook, — these  all  are  the  products  of 
plant  labor  of  the  former  year. 

These  slow,  secret  processes  are  hid  from  the  eye 
of  the  most  careful  observer,  and  they  would  never 
be  known  were  it  not  for  the  sudden  display  of  leaf 
and  flower  in  spring  time,  that  reveals  the  secret  of 
this  hoarded  wealth. 

But  there  are  other  processes  by  which  the  plant 
provides  for  its  growth  and  seemingly  for  its  enjoy- 
ment and  rest,  as  though  it  were  a sentient  being. 

> The  Sun-flower  turns  its  broad  disk  towards  the  sun 
that  its  hundreds  of  flowers  packed  in  one  head  may 
bask  in  his  light.  A multitude  of  smaller  flowers 
that  fail  to  attract  the  attention  of  common  observ- 
ers, are  silent  worshippers  of  the  sun,  or  turn  fondly 
towards  his  life  giving  rays.  And  not  the  flowers 
alone  but  leaf  and  stalk  bend  from  the  darkness  to- 
wards the  light  which  can  alone  give  the  conditions 
of  life  and  growth.  The  power  that  turns  them  is 
no  mere  enlargement  of  cells  nor  change  of  structure 
as  we  are  sometimes  told,  but  the  movement  is  as 
inscrutible  as  the  folding  of  the  leaf  of  the  sensitive 


Fly-trap — Su  n-dcw. 


6i 


plant,  or  the  sleep  of  the  water  lily  when  she  folds 
her  petals  of  ivory  and  gold, to  gather  new  beauty 
and  richer  perfume  for  the  morrow. 

There  are  among  plants  other  operations  whose 
purpose  we  may  not  be  able  to  solve  satisfactorily, 
while  the  acts  or  operations  have  all  the  character- 
istics of  instinctive  contrivance.  What  shall  we  say 
of  the  Catch-flies  that  at  every  joint  pour  out  their 
sticky  fluid  that  holds  all  the  smaller  insects  as  bird- 
lime spread  by  the  fowler’s  art,  holds  birds  upon  the 
branch?  There  is  also  the  Venus’s  fly-trap  of  our  - 
southern  states,  that  has  a portion  of  its  leaves  fash- 
ioned specially  for  its  work — the  barbs  all  set  for 
holding  their  prey — the  bait  poured  out  by  the  trap 
itself  to  allure  the  unsuspecting  fly  within  the  cruel 
jaws  that  close  all  the  tighter  for  the  victim’s  strug- 
gles.* Its  near  relation  is  that  gem  among  the  flow- 
ers, the  Sun-dew  of  our  bogs.  There  is  no  more ' 
beautiful  object  to  a Botanist’s  eye  than  this  Drose- 
ra  rotundifolia^  that  puts  a garniture  of  ruby  points 
upon  every  leaf  and  has  every  point  tipped  with  a 
glittering  diamond.  In  the  sunlight  it  is  like  some 
precious  jewel.  But  all  this  display  is  death  for  the 
unwary  insects  attracted  by  this  tempting  feast. 
For  every  diamond  point  is  simply  treacherous  glue 
and  is  to  the  insect  like  the  mire  and  quicksand  to 
the  higher  animals.  Every  struggle  makes  his  case 
more  hopeless,  and  he  is  soon  wound  in  a multitude 
of  threads  drawn  from  those  globes  of  clear  waxy 
dew  that  distills  from  the  brilliant  points  and  gives 


* — ^but  secretes  much  more  to  digest  him ! — Prof.  A.  Gkat. 


62 


Instmct. 


the  plant  its  name.  When  the  victim  is  fairly  en- 
snared the  leaf  slowly  encloses  the  body,  taking 
days  for  the  operation,  and  all  the  slender  points 
bend  towards  it  as  though  the  plant  were  feeding 
like  the  hawk  or  tiger,  on  its  prey. 

Near  by  this  beautiful  destroyer  may  often  be 
^ found  the  Pitcher -plant,  Sarracenia  purpurea^  of 
which  it  may  be  said,  “ If  the  Drosera  slays  its 
thousands,  the  Sarracenia  slays  its  ten  thousands.” 
Where  can  be  found  such  a death-dealing  instru- 
ment? one  more  perfectly  fitted  for  its  work? 
Each  leaf  forms  of  its  blade  a tube  or  pitcher  that 
becomes  a horrid  prison.  Down  deep  in  its  cav- 
erns there  is  a pool  of  death  probably  supplied  by 
the  plant  itself,  so  that  the  place  of  execution  is  al- 
most ever  ready  for  its  victim.  The  expanding 
portion  of  the  leaf  that  serves  as  a portal  to  this 
Avernus  for  insects,  is  attractive  enough  and  offers 
no  resistance  to  the  various  kinds  that  seek  the  ap- 
parently safe  and  cool  retreat  that  always  stands  so 
invitingly  open.  The  sharp  hairs  upon  its  surface 
all  point  downwards  and  gradually  lengthen  towards 
the  prison.  But  when  the  last  row  is  passed  there 
is  a steep  and  smooth  passage  to  that  bourne  from 
which  so  few  insects  ever  return.  For  if  by  chance 
one  can  drag  himself  up  the  steep  plane,  he  is  met 
by  those  frowning  palisades  over  which  he  went 
down  with  ease,  now  rising  high,  thickly  set  and 
pointing  downward.  Those  who  have  gathered 
these  plants  in  summer  and  poured  out  from  the 
hollow  leaves  the  hundreds  of  decomposing  insects, 
have  seen  that  this  machinery  has  done  its  appoint- 


Sex  among  Plants.  63 

ed  work  with  the  certainty  of  the  most  cunning 
beast  of  prey  or  the  most  skilful  devices  of  men. 

But  all  the  economy  of  the  plant  thus  far  men- 
tioned probably  has  relation  to  its  own  welfare  as 
an  individual.  The  imitations  of  Instinct  are  even 
more  marked  in  the  provisions  which  the  tree 
makes  for  its  young.  In  many  plants  this  care  ex- 
tends not  only  to  the  maturing  of  the  seeds  but  in 
many  cases  to  their  distribution. 

It  is  a remarkable  fact  that  in  the  vegetable 
kingdom  we  find  the  distinction  of  sex  as  well 
marked  as  among  animals — the  distinction  mani- 
festing itself  in  some  form  almost  to  the  lowest 
types  of  plant  life.  If  we  begin  by  recognizing  the 
existence  of  a benevolent  Creator,  we  can  readily 
understand  the  final  cause  of  sexual  distinction 
among  animals,  when  we  estimate  the  revenue  of 
enjoyment  to  all  higher  sentient  beings,  from  the 
parental  relation.  But  that  the  distinction  of  sexes 
should  obtain  in  the  vegetable  kingdom  where  sen- 
sation even  is  unknown,  can  never  be  explained  on 
the  theory  of  benevolence  in  the  Creator,  unless  we 
look  entirely  beyond  plant  life  for  the  objects  to  be 
benefited  by  means  of  this  relation.  Such  theories 
might  be  started  in  regard  to  this  duality  of  struct- 
ure and  nature  in  plants  of  the  same  species  or 
double  nature  of  the  same  plant,  as  would  appear 
plausible  at  least  to  those  who  are  ready  to  grant 
that  every  thing  is  wisely  created  for  some  purpose. 
But  it  does  not  come  within  the  scope  of  our  pres- 
ent subject  to  propose  or  defend  any  peculiar  the- 
ories of  creation.  We  simply  take  the  plant  as  it  is 


64 


Instinct. 


and  trace  the  structure  and  function  of  organs  by 
v/hich  the  young  plants  are  matured  and  provided 
for  by  their  parents. 

Among  our  common  plants  we  shall  find  abun- 
dant illustrations  for  our  purpose  ; and  the  more  com- 
mon the  better.  When  the  apple  blossom  opens 
in  spring,  the  showy  petals,  that  delight  us  by  their 
beauty  of  color  and  sweet  perfume,  are  but  the  out- 
er adorning  of  a much  more  wonderful  workman- 
ship within  the  flower.  In  the  base  of  that  flower 
even  now,  the  outlines  of  seeds  can  be  found  cover- 
ed in  the  minute  ball  of  tissue  destined  in  time  to 
become  the  apple.  But  above  those  seeds  rise  the 
stamens  bearing  pollen  and  the  pistils  to  receive  the 
life-giving  grains  of  dust.  Lest  the  work  should 
not  be  well  performed  there  is  honey  poured  out 
by  the  apple  blossom  as  well  as  by  thousands  of 
other  flowers,  to  attract  the  bees,  that  in  their  eager 
haste  to  gather  the  sweet  scatter  the  pollen  grains 
upon  the  stigmas  and  distribute  them  from  flower 
to  flower.  When  the  pistil  has  conducted  the  sub- 
stance of  these  grains  of  pollen  to  the  seed,  it  has 
at  once  an  independent  life.  It  is  henceforth  a 
new  plant,  and  the  whole  energy  of  the  tree  is  at 
once  taxed  to  bring  that  seed  to  perfection  and  se- 
cure for  it  the  conditions  of  independent  growth. 
Around  the  germ,  or  in  some  organs  connected 
with  it,  the  tree  stores  up  starch,  sugar  and  other 
products  fitted  to  support  the  young  plantlet  until 
large  enough  to  gather  food  for  itself  from  the  earth 
and  air.  That  this  provision  is  for  the  young  plant, 
is  shown  by  the  fact  that  if  the  germ  is  not  fertil- 


65 


Fertilizatioli— Distribution. 

ized  by  pollen  so  as  to  have  power  of  independent 
growth,  the  seed  fails  to  fill.  This  is  certainly  the 
rule — if  there  are  any  exceptions,  they  are  not  more 
common  than  parthenogenesis  in  the  animal  king- 
dom. The  necessity  of  fertilization  to  secure  the 
filling  of  the  seed,  is  illustrated  by  what  occurs  in 
many  of  our  most  useful  cultivated  plants,  especial- 
ly in  the  Indian  corn.  Every  silk  of  the  ear  is  con- 
nected with  a kernel ; and  its  office  is  to  conduct  the 
life-giving  portion  of  the  pollen  that  may  chance  to 
fall  upon  it  to  the  kernel  hidden  in  the  husks  be- 
neath. If  it  does  the  work,  we  have  the  golden 
rows  well  filled.  But  for  every  thread  that  fails,  a 
vacant  place  is  found  upon  the  ear  in  harvest  time. 
The  kernel  fills  with  food  fitted  for  the  support  of 
the  living  germ  within  it.  And  all  that  wealth  of 
food  for  man  so  abundantly  produced  each  year— 
the  rich  harvest  of  grain  that  gives  stimulus  to  trade 
and  commerce  because  so  essential  to  the  daily  sup- 
port of  animal  life,  is  but  the  provision  which  the 
plants  have  made  for  their  young. 

But  when  the  seed  is  filled  the  young  plantlet 
is  simply  provided  with  means  to  start  in  life — its 
final  welfare  depending  upon  its  finding  a congenial 
soil.  To  secure  this,  special  provision  has  been 
made  by  many  plants  for  the  distribution  of  their 
seeds.  To  some  seeds  balloons  of  down  are  fixed 
by  which  they  are  lifted  by  the  winds  and  scattered 
broadcast  over  the  land.  Others,  like  those  of  the 
Elm  and  Birch,  have  a web  or  circular  wing — others 
still  have  prongs  with  barbs  that  fasten  upon  men 
and  animals  and  thus  they  are  distributed  by  un- 


66 


Instinct. 


willing  agents.  The  Mistletoe  supplies  its  seed  with 
a glue  that  holds  it  to  the  branch  where  alone  its 
parasitic  life  can  be  sustained.  The  student  of 
Botany  is  amazed  at  the  wealth  of  invention  mani- 
fested in  this  machinery  of  plants  to  secure  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  seeds.  The  plume,  the  barb,  the 
hook,  the  spring,  the  wing  in  countless  modifica- 
tions are  all  employed  according  to  the  needs  of 
the  plant. 

But  instinct-like  provisions  made  by  plants  are 
not  always  for  the  benefit  of  themselves  or  their 
young.  Plants  become  protectors  as  well  as  sup- 
porters, of  many  of  the  insect  tribe.  The  Gall-fly 
has  but  to  deposit  its  eggs  upon  the  leaf  or  branch 
of  the  Oak,  and  the  tree,  like  a careful  nurse,  makes 
as  ample  provision  for  the  young  insect  as  is  ever 
made  by  animals  under  the  guidance  of  Instinct  for 
their  own  young.  The  tree  forms  a gall  or  oak-ap- 
ple which  serves  as  a home  and  feeder  for  the  imma- 
ture insect.  This  provision  is  not  made  for  one  in- 
sect alone  but  for  many,  and  a like  provision  is  made 
in  some  form  by  a multitude  of  plants.  In  every 
case  the  provision  is  adapted  to  the  habits  of  the 
insect  and  is  always  the  same  in  kind  for  the  same 
species.  What  is  more  curious  than  to  see  the  Oak 
using  its  own  resources  to  build  a house  and  furnish 
food  for  the  insect  cast  upon  its  care  ? The  Golden- 
rod  and  Potentilla  in  their  swollen  stems,  the  Wil- 
low and  the  Spruce  in  their  false  cones  oftentimes 
with  an  insect  under  every  scale,  show  in  different 
ways  this  protecting  care  of  plants  towards  their 
insect  foes. 


LECTURE  III. 


OPERATIONS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY  SIMULATING  IN- 
STINCT ; AND  THE  LOWEST  FORMS  OF  INSTINCT 
FOR  THE  WELFARE  OF  THE  INDIVIDUAL  ANI- 
MAL SUPPLEMENTING  PHYSIOLOGY  OR  FUNC- 
TION OF  ORGANS. 

Intelligent  and  Instinctive  Acts. — The  Tent-Moth. — Animal  Phys- 
iology.— Structure,  Function  and  Instinct,  supplementing  each 
other. — Unity  from  system.  — Specific  Plans. — Servitude  of 
Plants. — Life  and  its  phenomena. — Evolution  of  the  Tree. — 
The  animal  body  a Machine. — Its  Evolution  from  the  Egg. — 
Variables  giving  rise  to  Species. — Alchemists.  — Evolution  of  a 
specific  form,  the  Robin. — Growth  of  the  bird  requiriiig  Instinct- 
ive Action. — The  first  Instinctive  Act. — Selection  of  food-. — Re- 
lation of  Life  to  the  Physical  Forces. — Doctrine  of  Evolution. — 
Higher  manifestation  of  Instinct  in  securing  food. 

We  shall  not  fail  to  acknowledge  Intelligence 
wherever  we  find  it.  And  any  act  performed  be- 
cause an  end  is  comprehended  by  the  actor  as  de- 
sirable, and  because  the  act  is  comprehended  as  a 
means  to  secure  that  end,  we  regard  as  an  act  of 
Intelligence,  whether  it  is  performed  by  an  animal 
with  two  feet  or  four. 


68 


Instinct. 


But  we  believe  it  can  be  shown  that  there  are 
many  acts  performed  by  sentient  beings,  that,  as 
means  to  ends,  are  the  perfection  of  wisdom,  while 
there  is  no  comprehension  on  the  part  of  the  actor 
of  the  end  to  be  reached,  or  of  his  act  as  a means 
to  secure  the  end.  Such  acts  are  truly  instinctive 
according  to  the  substance  of  the  definitions  we 
have  quoted  ; or  better  still,  according  to  the  pop- 
ular meaning  of  the  word  instinctive.  Take  for 
one  single  illustration,  the  Tent-moth,  that  is  so  in- 
jurious to  our  apple  trees.  There  is  not  one  of  them 
alive  in  New  England  this  winter  month.  But  prob- 
ably it  would  not  be  difficult  to  find  a bunch  of  its 
eggs  glued  to  an  apple  twig.  And  when  the  young 
leaves  begin  to  expand,  a brood  of  young  caterpil- 
lars will  be  ready  to  feed  upon  them.  They  will 
work  together  and  spin  a web  or  tent  for  their  con- 
venience, making  it  larger  as  they  need  more  room. 
And’when  their  feeding  days  are  over,  they  will  de- 
sert the  web  and  each  finding  a secure  place  will 
prepare  a cocoon  for  transformation.  All  the  work 
of  the  colony  goes  on  as  regularly  and  with  the 
same  certainty  in  its  methods  and  results  as  the 
growing  of  the  leaves,  or  flowers,  or  apples  upon 
the  tree  where  it  is  found.  There  is  no  instructor 
of  the  young  brood,  for  all  the  parent  moths  died 
the  year  before.  They  have  no  chance  to  copy. 
They  have  impulse  and  guidance,  and  do  just  what 
it  is  best  for  them  to  do  for  their  own  good  and  to 
continue  the  species.  They  do  this  without  expe- 
rience and  without  instruction,  and  all  colonies  do 
exactly  the  same  thing.  These  are  the  acts  of  wis- 


Intelligence, 


69 


dom  and  intelligence  to  which  Hamilton  refers  as 
being  performed  while  the  actors  are  as  ignorant  of 
the  end  to  be  accomplished  as  the  water-wheel  is  of 
the  machinery  it  sets  in  motion.  To  prepare  the 
way  for  the  consideration  of  these  truly  instinctive 
acts,  that  display  a wisdom  not  found  in  the  actor 
but  which  is  often  ascribed  to  him  simply  because 
the  acts  are  voluntary,  we  have  introduced  inorgan- 
ic nature  and  plant  life,  to  show  that  in  them  we 
have  just  such  operations  as  are  performed  by  ani- 
mals through  those  acts  that  are  truly  instinctive, 
though  often  cited  as  evidence  of  intelligence  and 
wisdom  in  the  actors.  We  propose  to  continue 
these  illustrations  of  instinct-like  operations  in  plant 
life  and  that  part  of  animal  life,  where  volition  can 
have  no  agency,  until  we  reach  that  point  where  the 
simplest  voluntary  act  is  introduced  to  carry  the 
work  of  life  one  step  farther  than  it  is  possible  for 
it  to  be  carried  by  structure  and  function  alone. 
From  that  point  we  shall  find  the  instinctive  princi- 
ples of  action  widening  and  producing  more  and 
more  complex  results  until  Intelligence  is  intro- 
duced ; and  this  is  introduced  chiefly  as  a means  of 
securing  enjoyment,  and  to  carry  the  being,  as  in 
the  case  of  man,  into  regions  entirely  above  mere 
physical  life,  for  it  is  impossible  for  the  mere  con- 
tinuance of  physical  life  to  be  better  cared  for  than 
it  is  by  Instinct  alone. 

In  our  last  lecture  we  referred  especially  to 
those  physiological  changes  within  the  plant  by 
which  it  provides  for  itself  to  meet  the  change  of 


70 


Instinct. 


seasons,  and  secure  the  best  condition  of  growth. 
In  all  these  physiological  functions  and  adaptations 
to  heat  and  moisture,  darkness  and  light,  we  saw 
adaptation  of  means  to  ends  such  as  justified  itself 
to  the  Reason  of  man.  They  all  had  special  refer- 
ence to  the  welfare  of  the  individual  plant.  No 
careful  observer  can  fail  to  see  adaptation  in  the 
parts  of  a plant  working  out  as  specific  results  as 
are  ever  ^een  accomplished  among  animals  or  men. 
Whatever  his  theoretical  notions  of  inorganic  na- 
ture may  be,  as  of  something  formed  and  controlled 
b}^  physical  forces  working  under  laws  of  mathe- 
matical exactness,  or  of  species  among  organic  beings 
as  the  “ survivors  of  the  fittest  ” in  the  great  strug- 
gle for  existence,  he  must  recognize  among  plants 
an  adaptation  of  parts  to  produce  specific  results — 
results  necessary  for  the  existence  and  well  being 
of  the  plants  themselves  as  individuals  and  species. 
No  one  pretends  that  there  is  any  power  of  percep- 
tion, any  sensation  or  volition  connected  with  the 
plant,  and  yet  operations  are  carried  on  by  it  pre- 
cisely as  though  sensation,  perception  and  volition 
were  all  present. 

If  we  now  consider  the  animal  body  alone,  as 
far  as  anatomy  and  physiology  can  go,  or  rather 
physiology — for  that  explains  the  growth — we  shall 
find  that  it  involves  the  same  kind  of  operations  as 
are  in  the  tree,  but  more  complicated,  rapid  and  mar- 
vellous in  their  results.  In  connection  with  all  these 
operations  in  the  animal  body  there  may  be  sensa- 
tion, but  perception  and  volition  have  no  more  to 
do  directly  in  building  up  the  animal  system  than 


Structure  and  Function.  71 

they  have  in  arranging  the  fibers  of  the  Oak  or  the 
angle  of  its  branches  with  the  trunk. 

We  now  wish  especially  to  call  attention  to  the 
instinct-like  operations  of  vitality  in  building  up 
individual  structures — arranging  all  their  parts  and 
bringing  them  into  harmonious  action. 

The  function  of  an  organ  is  often  what  it  is,  or 
rather  becomes  useful  to  the  being  on  account  of 
the  structure  of  the  organ  itself  or  of  some  part 
connected  with  it.  Of  what  use  would  be  the  func- 
tion of  the  stomach  for  secreting  gastric  juice,  were 
the  stomach  not  connected  with  an  apparatus  for 
supplying  it  with  food  and  also  with  other  organs 
for  the  distribution  of  the  nutriment  to  different 
parts  of  the  body?  What  benefit  the  synovial  fluid, 
if  there  were  no  joint  to  be  lubricated  by  it  ? 

We  see  structure  and  function  within  the  ani- 
mal body  producing  certain  results  for  the  body  it- 
self and  for  the  species.  In  plants,  and  some  of  the 
lowest  forms  of  animals  perhaps,  the  work  is  com- 
pleted by  these  two  agencies  alone.  But  when  any 
being  is  of  so  high  a type  that  structure  and  func- 
tion alone  cannot  complete  the  work,  then  we  find 
Instinct  added  to  act  as  the  handmaid  of  these  two 
primitive  workers,  to  supply  materials  or  to  give  a 
wider  range  of  activities,  and  finally  to  bring  enjoy- 
ment to  the  individual  through  its  activities.  We 
find  Structure,  Function,  and  Instinct  in  its  lowest 
form,  all  working  together  in  the  same  line,  appar- 
ently for  the  same  purpose,  or  if  for  different  sim- 
ple, subordinate  purposes,  to  secure  the  same  com- 
plex end.  The  most  careful  study  of  these  three 


72 


histinct. 


agencies  in  every  species  only  impresses  us  more 
fully  with  the  conviction,  that  they  are  the  three 
agencies  supplementary  to  each  other  by  which  an- 
mal  life  is  sustained  and  has  secured  to  it,  its  infinite 
variety  of  expression.  Nothing  can  well  be  more 
unlike  than  the  species  that  make  up  the  great 
branches  of  the  animal  kingdom.  But  structure, 
function  and  instinct  are  as  perfectly  adapted  to 
secure  the  welfare  of  individuals  belonging  to  one 
branch  as  to  another.  We  may  also  consider  a 
more  complex  plan  of  which  these  three  agencies 
are  but  one  part.  For  when  we  consider  the  struc- 
ture, forces  and  operations  of  the  inorganic  world, 
the  structure  and  function  of  plants  as  a whole  and 
the  relation  of  their  parts  to  each  other, — the  struc- 
ture, functions,  instincts  and  relations  of  animals, 
the  plan  or  system  seems  to  be  the  same  in  kind  as 
we  see  in  a single  individual  or  species,  but  more 
far-reaching  still,  embracing  as  it  does  the  three 
kingdoms  of  nature  as  though  they  formed  an  or- 
ganized whole.  But  the  oneness  never  impresses 
us  as  arising  from  any  likeness  of  the  things  among 
themselves  but  from  the  peculiar  relationship  of  the 
most  diverse  things  to  constitute  one  system,  that 
brings  the  idea  of  unity  necessarily  to  every  mind 
that  comprehends  its  parts,  relations  and  opera- 
tions. Within  this  one  comprehensive  plan,  by 
which  all  beings  seem  to  be  related  for  their  mutual 
good,  we  may  consider  the  various  subordinate 
plans  for  specific  purposes.  These  impress  us  more 
strongly  perhaps  because  they  are  specific,  especial- 
ly if  they  are  so  different  from  the  general  plan  as 


special  contrivances. 


n 


to  be  unexpected,  as  the  oil  gland  in  the  fowl ; or 
if  the  obvious  relation  is  between  two  objects  hav- 
ing no  organic  relationship,  as  the  reciprocal  effect 
of  animals  and  plants  upon  the  atmosphere  for  the 
mutual  benefit  of  each,  or  the  peculiar  structure  of 
many  flowers  in  their  relation  to  the  structure  of 
the  bee  that  is  to  fertilize  them.  What  contrivance 
of  Instinct  or  Wisdom  ever  impressed  one  more 
than  the  structure  and  function  of  so  many  Orchid 
flowers  as  shown  by  Darwin,  by  which  the  parts  are 
as  accurately  fitted  to  the  head  of  the  bee  as  are 
the  parts  of  a complicated  lock  to  its  key  ? Or  who 
would  expect  that  a plant  should  have  a structure 
or  function,  or  both  combined,  for  destroying  in- 
sects? We  find  these  two  elements  combined  in 
different  ways,  but  each  method  of  operation  is  as 
complete  for  the  purpose  as  any  work  of  Instinct. 
We  are  more  impressed  perhaps,  by  these  specific 
arrangements  for  some  purpose  that  has  no  obvious 
relation  to  the  good  of  the  being  in  which  it  is 
found.  We  are  not  only  impressed  with  the  idea 
of  contrivance,  but  of  servitude  when  we  see  plants 
making  special  provision  for  their  insect  foes,  pro- 
viding them  at  their  own  expense,  with  food  and 
shelter. 

We  cannot  help  remarking,  in  passing,  that  such 
provisions  are  an  injury  to  the  species  in  which  they 
occur;  and  therefore  so  far  as  these  provisions  are 
concerned,  such  species  exist  not  through  Natural 
Selection,  but  in  spite  of  it. 

When  treating  of  plants  in  the  last  lecture,  we 
spoke  of  the  instinct-like  provisions  in  them  as  man- 
4 


74 


Instinct, 


ifested  mainly  in  their  outward  organs,  or  in  the 
function  of  the  mature  organ.  But  a like  control- 
ling power  is  manifested  in  building  up  every  part 
of  the  plant,  so  as  to  form  a complete  whole,  of  com- 
plex parts.  And  of  this  power  we  propose  now  to 
speak.  In  the  living  plant  or  animal,  even  of  the 
lowest  type,  we  seem  to  have  an  immaterial  entity 
— an  essence  to  which  we  refer  the  peculiar  charac- 
teristics of  these  organic  beings.  In  the  mineral 
kingdom  we  find  the  force  of  cohesion  giving  us  dif- 
ferent forms  of  crystals  from  different  elements  or 
compounds  ; but  here  in  the  organic  kingdom  we 
have  life^  a something  which  we  hardly  dare  to  de- 
fine, in  these  days  of  the  conservation  and  unifica- 
tion of  forces — but  it  is  a something  that  from  es- 
sentially the  same  elements,  gives  us  the  myriad 
forms  of  plants  and  animals,  from  the  humblest 
Algae  to  man  himself.  If  we  cannot  fully  under- 
stand and  define  this  agency,  we  can  enumerate 
some  of  its  results.  It  is  from  the  careful  study  of 
these  alone  that  we  can  hope  for  more  knowledge 
of  the  agency  itself.  We  7iow  see  this  ageyicy  man! 
fested  in  the  production  of  distinct  forms  or  kinds  of 
beings.  For  each  kind  there  is  also  a plan  of  struct- 
ure  common  to  all  individuals  of  that  kind.  Each  in- 
dividual produced  by  this  principle  has  a cycle  of  op- 
erations that  brhigs  the  being  to  individual  perfection, 
then  to  weakness,  then  to  death,  followed  by  the  de- 
struction of  the  body  by  chemical  agencies.  Before 
death  cornes  in  regular  order  of  nature  by  the  comple- 
tion of  the  cycle  of  changes,  there  is  some  relationship 
of  that  being  to  the  origin  of  another  of  the  same  kind 


Life  as  a Builder. 


75 


to  continue  after  the  first  has  passed  away.  This 
power  then  builds  up  the  individual,  and  from  that 
individual  originates  another,  and  so  on,  giving  us 
the  parental  relation.  In  every  vegetable  and  ani- 
mal this  power  presides,  giving  rise  to  certain  activ- 
ities, which  we  sometimes  call  life — or  better  per- 
haps, we  regard  the  activities  as  the  evidence  that 
the  principle  of  life  is  there,  and  we  do  this  neces- 
sarily from  our  notion  of  causality.  That  we  do  not 
regard  this  agency  as  always  active  when  it  is  pres- 
ent, is  evident  in  our  experiments  in  the  sprouting 
of  seeds.  We  apply  certain  conditions  to  call  this 
agency  into  action,  and  not  to  create  the  agency  it- 
self. The  agency  once  inactive  in  the  germ,  under 
certain  conditions,  is  called  into  activity  and  gives  a 
specific  result — or  rather  a long  train  of  results 
which,  from  observation  on  other  germs  of  the  same 
kind,  can  be  predicted  beforehand.  This  train  of 
results  consists  in  building  up  by  evolution,  a com- 
plicated structure  from  a single  cell  of  simple  struct- 
ure ; in  watching  over  that  structure  to  secure  its 
welfare  by  adapting  its  parts  and  operations  to  the 
world,  in  the  same  manner  as  the  more  general 
forces  of  the  universe  seem  to  have  arranged  and 
prepared  the  materials  of  the  earth  for  the  intro- 
duction of  the  living  principle  itself.  We  can  sum 
up  by  saying  that  this  force  or  principle  is  so  far 
uniform  in  its  operations  as  to  give  us  the  simplest 
notion  of  life,  which  all  have,  although  they  may 
not  be  able  to  define  it.  And  this  principle  that 
impresses  us  as  one,  under  the  name  of  life,  mani- 
fests itself  under  hundreds  of  thousands  of  the  most 


;6 


Instinct, 


diverse  forms  of  matter  composed  of  the  same  ele- 
ments, and  takes  for  its  cycle  of  operations  a single 
day  as  in  the  lower  algae,  or  centuries,  as  in  some 
of  the  higher  animals.  If  asked  now  for  the  origin 
of  this  principle,  or  of  its  relationship  to  the  great 
forces  of  nature,  we  are  at  present,  as  utterly  at  a 
loss  to  account  for  them  as  we  are  to  account  for 
gravitation  itself  or  for  the  law  of  its  action.  We 
can  neither  deduce  this  principle  from  the  analysis, 
nor  synthesis  of  the  forces  of  the  inorganic  world. 
We  see  that  they  are  conditions  for  its  activity,  but 
this  no  more  shows  that  it  is  a modification  of  them 
than  it  follows  that  because  water  is  the  condition 
of  the  life  of  the  fish,  the  fish  is  therefore  a mod- 
ification of  that  element.  It  is  a characteristic 
of  this  principle  in  all  its  manifestations  to  demand 
and  use  as  a means  of  putting  forth  its  activities, 
the  different  elements  and  forces  of  the  inorganic 
world.  If  asked  for  the  origin  of  organized  beings 
we  come  back  in  all  our  investigations  where  we 
want  something  given  to  begin  the  work  with  ; as 
much  so,  as  we  need  in  Geometry  axioms  that  can- 
not be  demonstrated.  When  Mr.  Huxley  has  car- 
ried us  back  to  Protoplasm,  we  feel  that  we  are  as 
far  off  from  the  goal  as  ever ; and  although  some 
men  stand  franticly  pointing  into  the  dark,  declar- 
ing that  the  chasm  between  vitality  and  physical 
force  has  been  bridged  over,  we  refuse  to  budge  an 
inch  till  we  see  the  bridge,  and  much  prefer  to  be 
shouted  at  and  even  pounded  as  stubborn,  than  to 
follow  a logic  that  does  violence  to  every  principle  of 
sound  reasoning,  both  in  its  assumed  data  and  in  its 


Life  as  a Builder. 


77 


conclusions.  And  in  passing,  it  is  well  to  remark 
that  there  are  many  points  decided  authoritatively 
by  scientific  men,  that  common  men  can  judge  of 
as  well  as  they.  Because  one  man  knows  more  of 
fossil  reptiles  than  another,  it  does  not  follow  that  the 
latter  must  accept  all  the  conclusions  of  the  former 
on  every  subject.  If  one  does  not  understand  fos- 
sil turtles,  he  may  be  able  to  understand  a fair  argu- 
ment and  to  detect  bad  logic.  It  has  more  than 
once  happened  that  very  able  and  learned  compar- 
ative anatomists  have  fancied  that  they  have  found 
the  head  of  an  animal  where  nature  placed  his  tail. 
But  this  entire  misconception  in  regard  to  the 
structure  of  an  animal,  is  nothing  compared  to  the 
arguments  that  are  often  accepted  because  present- 
ed by  able  men, — arguments  in  which  every  prin- 
ciple of  sound  reasoning  is  reversed,  and  impassable 
chasms  are  bridged  over  with  assertions. 

Dismissing  for  the  present  further  speculations 
as  to  the  origin  and  nature  of  life,  since  they  are 
only  incidental,  we  will  confine  ourselves  to  its  phe- 
nomena, and  especially,  for  the  present,  to  those 
phenomena  that,  like  the  operations  of  Instinct,  in- 
dicate a plan  in  building  up  a structure  and  keeping 
it  in  repair,  as  well  as  skill  in  executing  the  plan. 
We  confine  ourselves  now  to  what  takes  place  with- 
in the  organism  by  evolution.  And  we  shall  find  a 
seeming  contrivance  and  skill  shown  in  the  selection 
and  arranging  of  the  materials  so  that  the  structure 
produced  indicates  a purpose  in  its  several  parts 
and  as  a whole,  and  the  harmony  of  the  whole  is 
heightened  by  the  function  of  each  part  being  in 


78 


Instinct. 


accordance  with  the  plan.  The  perception  of  this 
plan  is  a necessary  result  when  certain  relations  of 
the  parts  are  perceived. 

Let  us  now  briefly  examine  the  structure  of  a 
tree  as  produced  by  evolution  from  the  seed.  The 
origin  of  every  tree,  as  is  agreed  by  all  Botanists,  is 
a single  cell ; or  if  you  prefer  to  start  one  step 
above,  it  is  from  a germ,  with  power  of  independent 
life, from  the  union  of  cells  or  their  contents.  From 
that  minute  point  starts  the  Oak  with  all  its  compli- 
cated and  orderly  distribution  of  material.  One  who 
has  taken  the  acorn  from  the  parent  tree,  knows  be- 
forehand into  just  what  form  the  soil  around  the 
acorn  and  the  gases  in  the  air  will  be  moulded  under 
the  guiding  power  of  the  germ  which  he  plants.  He 
knows  beforehand  what  will  be  the  mathematical 
relation  of  the  leaves  to  each  other,  the  form  and 
flavor  of  the  acorns  which  the  tree  will  produce,  and 
he  knows  that  all  these  parts  will  be  taken  from  the 
same  soil  and  air  that  close  at  hand  are  furnishing 
the  materials  for  a beech,  a maple  and  a pine,  per- 
chance. 

How  inscrutable  it  is  that  one  portion  of  that 
Oak  should  seek  the  darkness,  plunging  down  and 
spreading  in  every  direction  where  the  light  cannot 
come,  while  another  portion  as  persistently  pushes 
into  the  sun-light ! But  after  we  understand  the 
plan  of  the  tree,  we  understand  that  this  polarity  is 
necessary  for  its  well  being.  The  presiding  power 
or  organizing  force  had  taken  care  that  all  parts 
should  be  disposed  aright  to  carry  out  the  plan. 

How  strange,  also,  that  from  the  subdivision  of 


Method  of  growth. 


79 


one  primitive  cell,  thus  forming  in  the  beginning, 
cells  alike  so  far  as  we  can  see,  that  we  should  have 
the  proper  division  of  wood  and  bark  and  leaves, 
with  their  wonderfully  complex  structure  of  cells 
and  vessels  all  arranged  for  the  service  of  the  tree 
and  with  power  to  act  so  that  each  should  do  its 
part  in  the  complicated  machinery  of  plant  growth. 
But  the  plan  of  the  tree  seems  to  need  all  this,  and 
the  invisible  agency,  at  the  proper  time,  gives  to 
these  cells  of  common  origin  the  form,  position  and 
property,  which  should  make  them  a fit  part  of  the 
complex  whole.  When  the  proper  time  comes, 
the  buds  all  appear  in  mathematical  order  upon  the 
limbs,  and  some  of  those  buds  put  forth  flowers  and 
all  the  machinery  of  fruiting,  as  well  as  leaves. 
Look  at  the  thousands  of  trees  and  other  plants 
that  adorn  our  fields  and  forests,  and  see  the  plan 
of  each  and  the  skill  with  which  that  plan  is  execu- 
ted in  every  outward  organ — the  plan  and  execu- 
tion being  the  result  of  that  principle  within,  which 
secures  these  varied  forms  and  processes  through 
the  agency  of  matter  and  the  physical  forces,  as  the 
engineers  use  power  from  the  same  water-wheel  and 
materials  from  the  same  store-house,  to  turn  out  the 
diverse  products  of  a varied  industry, — cloth  and 
nails  and  chairs  and  guns, — according  to  the  design 
and  skill  of  the  workmen  in  combining  the  mate- 
rials for  some  definite  purpose. 

We  may  be  told  that  one  part  of  the  plant 
structure  is  produced  by  shortening  an  axis,  and 
another  by  the  infolding  and  modification  of  a leaf, 
and  so  on  through  all  the  morphology  of  the  plant 


8o 


Instinct. 


Suppose  we  grant  all  this,  as  we  are  ready  to  dO; 
the  wonder  still  remains  that  the  axis  was  shorten- 
ed and  the  leaf  infolded  and  modified  exactly  as  in 
the  operations  of  Instinct,  to  produce  just  the  re- 
sult needed  for  the  welfare  of  the  tree  as  an  individ- 
ual or  member  of  a species — to  say  nothing  of  the 
original  production  of  the  axis  and  leaf  to  be  so 
modified. 

In  the  bodies  of  animals  the  ministration  of 
this  selecting  and  arranging  power  as  manifested 
by  the  function  of  organs,  is  of  the  same  kind  as 
seen  in  plants,  but  the  operations  are  more  rapid, 
more  complicated  and  wonderful.  In  the  full  grown 
animal  we  have  a machine,  and  the  higher  the  ani- 
mal the  more  diverse  the  parts  and  complex  the 
machine.  The  parts  are  made  of  different  materials 
and  diverse  in  form,  but  all  nicely  adjusted  to  each 
other  for  a purpose — or  for  many  subordinate  pur- 
poses, to  secure  the  highest  perfection  of  the  individ- 
ual and  the  continuance  of  the  species.  The  body 
of  man  or  of  one  of  the  higher  animals  impresses  us 
at  once  as  a work  of  design,  but  of  such  design  as 
we  see  accomplished  by  Instinct.  We  can  trace 
the  whole  process  by  which  the  body  of  any  of  our 
higher  animals  is  built  up.  And  we  see  the  same 
sort  of  contrivance  in  the  formation  of  parts,  wis- 
dom in  selecting  materials,  and  the  same  sort  of  skill 
in  manipulating  them  that  we  see  in  the  operation 
of  the  highest  Instinct  among  bees  and  birds  in  the 
construction  of  honey-comb  and  nests.  The  grow- 
ing of  this  machine,  after  it  is  once  formed  with  its 


EvollUiofi. 


8i 


apparatus  all  complete,  is  wonderful  enough,  but 
there  is  something  more  wonderful,  if  possible,  than 
the  mere  growth;  it  is  the  original  structure  of  the 
machine, — the  evolution  of  a complex  organism 
from  a mass  of  matter  having  no  trace  of  organs, — 
through  the  agency  of  a principle  within  the  matter 
itself.  In  the  egg  of  the  bird,  which  is  even  more 
complex  than  the  eggs  of  most  other  animals,  we 
see  a yolk  surrounded  by  the  albumen  or  white. 
To  the  eye,  unaided  by  the  microscope,  there  ap- 
pears one  nearly  homogeneous  semi-fluid  body  sur- 
rounded by  another.  The  microscope  reveals  but 
little  more — certainly  it  reveals  nothing  in  the  egg 
that  suggests  the  form  or  the  organs  of  the  bird 
that  is  to  come  from  it.  The  warmth  of  the  moth- 
er bird,  or  an  equal  amount  of  warmth  from  any 
other  source,  is  all  that  is  needed,  and  in  a certain 
number  of  days,  varying  with  the  species,  there 
comes  from  that  egg  a bird  perfect  in  all  its  parts. 
The  yolk  and  white  have  disappeared.  Instead  of 
them  you  have  bone  and  muscle  and  feathers,  or- 
gans of  sense  and  digestion,  and  the  whole  compli- 
cated machinery  of  a living  animal. 

Now  within  that  egg  was  an  artificer  that  for 
want  of  a better  name  we  call  life.  And  the  pro- 
cess of  this  artificer’s  work  we  can  watch  from  day 
to  day  and  from  hour  to  hour,  if  we  choose  to  do 
so,  and  trace  every  step  from  the  segregation  of  the 
yolk  and  faint  outline  of  a living  form  up  to  the 
completion  of  the  work. 

But  the  term  life  is  generic,  if  we  consider  only 

4* 


82 


Instinct, 


the  constant  results  produced  by  it.  All  life  does 
not  build  up  birds  any  more  than  all  insects  build 
honey-comb.  Life  has  as  many  specific  characters 
as  there  are  distinct  forms  of  living  beings. 

We  are  not  now  discussing  the  question  how 
these  differences  came  to  be,  but  simply  call  atten- 
tion to  their  manifestations.  We  have  life  a con- 
stant quantity,  as  we  should  express  it  in  mathe- 
matics, and  we  have  joined  to  this  a vast  number  of 
variables  which  give  us  the  forms  of  life  as  manifest- 
ed in  distinct  kinds.  These  kinds  have  not  only 
life  in  common,  but  even  the  variables  have  some- 
thing in  common,  so  that  the  kinds  can  be  arranged 
into  groups  according  to  the  similarity  of  these  va- 
riables, giving  us  GENERA,  FAMILIES,  CLASSES,  and 
finally  two  kingdoms,  animal  and  vegetable,  founded 
mainly  upon  the  variable,  se^isation. 

We  do  not  wish  here  to  be  understood  as  en- 
dorsing the  view  that  these  variables  are  constantly 
changing  or  liable  to  change.  We  only  speak  of 
them  as  variables  because  they  are  the  cause  of  dif- 
ferences in  forms,  all  due  to  one  great  underlying 
principle  which  we  call  life,  which  no  one  fully  un- 
derstands, but  the  distinctive  phenomena  of  which 
every  intelligent  person  understands  as  well  as  he 
does  the  phenomena  of  gravitation.  We  regard 
these  variables  as  the  same  in  kind  as  those  that 
give  rise  to  the  different  kinds  of  matter,  or  at  least 
strongly  analogous  to  them.  We  have  the  generic 
notion  of  matter  gained  from  certain  properties  that 
must  be  present  to  give  the  notion  of  matter  at  all, 
and  then  the  variables  that  give  the  different  kinds 


Chemical  Elements, 


83 


of  matter.  The  variables  in  this  case  are  fixed  so 
that  probably  no  man  now  believes  that  Sodium 
and  Potassium  ever  change,  one  into  the  other,  or 
Iron  into  Manganese,  or  Silver  into  Gold,  though 
there  is  great  likeness  between  some  of  these  ele- 
ments, so  great,  that  some  eminent  men  have  be- 
lieved either  that  all  kinds  of  matter  are  modifica- 
tions of  one  element,  or  that  each  group  of  elements 
is  a modification  of  one  element.  A crude  belief 
of  this  kind  was  the  foundation  of  the  labors  of  the 
old  Alchemists.  It  is  certain  that  the  likeness  of 
the  elements  to  each  other  is  such  that  they  can  be 
formed  into  groups  by  a truly  natural  classification 
as  can  the  kinds  in  the  kingdom  of  life.  The  most 
accurate  modern  research  among  the  elements,  has 
but  satisfied  the  best  minds  of  their  distinctness  and 
that  the  Alchemists  were  not  only  pardonable  in 
being  misled  by  such  a mistake  but  that  the  mis- 
take itself  arose  from  careful  study  and  great  knowl- 
edge of  the  elements  which  they  experimented 
upon.  If  those  who  hold  that  the  variables  that 
make  the  different  kinds  in  the  organic  kingdom 
are  of  such  a nature  that  we  can  regard  these  kinds 
all  as  modifications  of  one  original  simple  form — if 
those  who  hold  this  view  should  in  the  end  find 
that  their  theory  is  as  unfounded  as  that  of  the  old 
Alchemists  proved  to  be,  we  can  yet  see  that  this 
mistake,  if  mistake  it  proves  to  be,  has  arisen  from 
a most  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  objects  treat- 
ed of ; and  we  shall  be  as  thankful  to  them  for  their 
great  contributions  to  science  directly  and  indirectly 
as  we  are  to  the  Alchemists  for  the  acids  and  other 


84 


Instinct. 


important  agencies  and  information  which  they  be- 
queathed to  modern  chemistry,  which  certainly 
would  have  been  far  behind  its  present  state  had 
not  the  transmutation  theory  kept  so  many  experi- 
nenters  for  ages  eagerly  at  work. 

But  let  us  return  to  the  variables  in  the  king- 
dom of  life.  In  the  egg  of  the  Robin,  we  have  not 
only  life  but  we  have  in  consequence  of  a fixed  va- 
riable, if  I may  be  allowed  the  expression,  that  par- 
ticular species  of  bird^  There  was  life — that  could 
be  understood  as  a distinct  thing — and  this  life  was 
finally  to  manifest  itself  fully  in  the  production  of 
the  Robin  in  distinction  from  some  other  kind  of 
bird. 

Not  only  are  the  notions  of  life,  and  animal  life, 
and  bird  life,  entirely  distinct  from  the  specific  no- 
tion of  the  Robin,  but  they  can  all  be  reached  by  the 
inspection  of  the  embryo  bird  by  every  person  capa- 
ble of  comprehension  at  all,  before  the  specific  char- 
acters of  the  Robin  would  be  so  marked  as  to  be 
perceived  by  the  best  naturalist  in  the  world  who 
had  studied  only  the  adult  bird  from  which  the 
common  notion  of  the  word  Robin  is  derived.  But 
the  Robin  was  from  the  first  potentially  present  in 
the  egg.  The  materials  in  the  egg  do  not  differ,  so 
far  as  we  can  see,  either  in  structure  or  composition, 
from  the  materials  in  many  other  eggs ; but  there 
is  an  artificer  there  such  as  is  found  in  no  other 
kind  of  egg.  He  can  build  a Robin  from  the  mate- 
rials and  nothing  else.  This  artificer  needs  a cer- 
tain degree  of  heat  for  his  work.  The  heat  may 
come  from  the  mother  bird,  from  a bird  of  any 


First  instinctive  Act. 


85 


other  kind,  or  from  a stove.  Heat  from  the  same 
source  may  call  into  activity  the  latent  principle  in 
a hundred  kinds  of  eggs  at  the  same  time,  as  the 
heat  from  the  sun  is  the  condition  for  the  germina- 
tion and  growth  of  the  thousand  kinds  of  seeds  that 
develop  into  plants  ever}^  year.  It  is  plain  that  heat 
and  all  the  other  physical  forces  have  no  formative 
power  over  organic  beings  to  determine  kinds,  as 
these  forces  exert,  or  may  exert,  exactly  the  same 
influence  over  organic  beings  that  in  the  same  place 
are  developing  the  most  diverse  forms  and  proper- 
ties. 

But  this  artificer  in  the  Robin’s  egg,  being  fur- 
nished with  the  proper  conditions  from  the  inorgan- 
ic world,  the  same  exactly  as  must  be  furnished  in 
the  nests  of  other  kinds  for  the  production  of  young, 
selects  the  materials,  joins  them  together  in  a 
certain  order,  and  on  a given  day  presents  us  with 
a work  as  perfect  as  can  be  made  from  the  mate- 
rials in  the  egg.  We  have  a bird  fitted  for  inde- 
pendent life,  and  the  bird  is  of  a specific  kind, — the 
Robin. 

The  work  now  commenced  must  go  on  under 
the  same  guide  or  builder  while  it  goes  on  at  all,  but 
the  material  is  all  used  up.  The  young  bird  at  once 
seeks  food  ; if  in  no  other  way,  by  opening  its  bill 
to  receive  it  from  the  mother.  It  has  the  appetite 
arising  from  the  function  of  its  body  to  impel  it  to 
some  action,  and  it  is  guided  in  performing  the  right 
action  without  observation  or  instruction  but  by  a 
tendency  and  power  of  direction  that  were  ready 
when  needed  ; and  for  the  origin  of  this  power  we 


86 


Instinct. 


search  in  vain  in  the  history  of  the  species.  Such 
a tendency  and  power  are  a part  of  Instinct.  This 
instinctive  act  of  raising  the  head  and  opening  the 
bill  was  needed,  and  needed  at  once.  Death  would 
come  without  this  simple  action  on  the  part  of  the 
young  bird,  in  spite  of  its  mother’s  efforts.  It  was 
as  needful  for  the  first  young  bird  that  ever  existed 
as  for  one  to-day,  It  is  here — it  is  present  in  every 
young  bird  on  the  globe  that  is  hatched  in  so  im- 
mature state  as  to  be  unable  to  walk. 

And  here  we  see  the  first  connection  of  Instinct 
with  the  instinct-like  processes  below  it.  There  is 
simply  a movement  of  the  head  to  bring  it  into  re- 
lation with  something  outside  of  the  body.  All 
else  is  dependent  upon  the  Instinct  of  the  mother 
bird  that  supplements  this  opening  of  the  bill  by 
supplying  the  young  bird  with  the  proper  food. 
And  this  raising  of  the  head  and  opening  of  the  bill 
is  no  more  comprehended  by  the  young  bird  than 
he  comprehended  the  distribution  of  material  that 
forms  his  head  or  bill.  It  is  an  act  performed  by 
all  young  birds  as  soon  as  hatched  and  therefore  can 
have  no  relation  to  experience  or  instruction.  But 
in  the  case  of  those  birds  like  our  domestic  fowls, 
that  are  hatched  in  a more  mature  state,  the  first 
instinctive  act  is  much  more  complex.  The  young 
bird  must  select  and  pick  up  the  first  particle  of 
food  it  ever  receives.  The  very  first  act  of  taking 
food  is  as  complicated  in  its  nature  as  any  subse- 
quent act  of  feeding  can  be.  This  complex  act  is 
performed  by  the  bird  by  the  same  sort  of  law  as 
its  blood  circulates  or  its  feathers  grow. 


Growth. 


87 


The  food  gathered  either  by  the  young  bird  or 
supplied  to  it  by  the  mother  contains  the  same  ma- 
terials as  are  found  in  its  own  body  just  formed  from 
the  egg,  because  Instinct  guides  in  its  selection. 
Physiological  function  of  the  mother  supplied  the  egg 
from  which  the  body  of  the  young  bird  was  formed, 
and  now  her  Instinct  leads  her  to  supply,  through 
volition,  her  young  with  additional  substance  of  the 
same  kind.  The  Instinct  of  the  young  bird  and 
that  of  the  mother  both  join  to  bring  more  material 
within  the  working  sphere  of  the  same  artificer  that 
first  formed  the  bird  from  the  materials  in  the  egg. 
But  how  unlike  in  appearance  from  the  substance 
of  the  egg,  are  the  grain  and  insects  now  supplied 
to  carry  on  the  work ! But  Instinct  recognized 
them  as  proper  materials  before  chemistry  was 
known,  and  from  these  materials,  that  inscrutable 
something  that  formed  the  bird  within  the  egg  now 
carries  on  its  work  to  completion.  It  enlarges  bone 
and  muscle  and  feather.  This  is  growth,  which  at 
first  sight  seems  a simple  matter  compared  with  the 
evolution  of  a perfect  bird  with  all  its  complex  tis- 
sues and  system  of  vessels  from  a single  cell,  but  in 
reality  it  is  just  as  difficult  of  comprehension,  or 
rather  just  as  far  beyond  our  comprehension  as  the 
other.  The  materials  used  we  understand  perfectly, 
and  the  process  of  digestion  and  distribution  we  are 
able  to  trace  very  fully.  We  see  in  the  process  the 
action  of  chemical  affinity  and  mechanical  forces ; 
but  while  all  this  knowledge  is  a great  gain  to  us  it 
is  not  all.  We  no  more  feel  that  we  know  it  all 
now  than  we  did  before  Chemistry  and  Physiology 


88 


Instinct. 


were  studied.  We  see  chemical  action  and  mechan- 
ical structure  and  osmose  just  as  far  as  our  best 
glasses  will  carry  us, — but  we  see  certain  results 
which  we  cannot  find  in  these  agencies  any  tenden- 
cy even  to  produce,  except  as  they  are  servants  to 
prepare  and  distribute  materials.  The  organizing 
force  itself  and  its  wise  action  in  building  up  the  or- 
ganism are  no  nearer  our  comprehension  than  they 
were  before  Spencer  and  Huxley  wrote.  Growth 
in  a complex  being  requires  selection  of  material  in 
proper  kind  and  quantity  to  be  carried  to  certain 
places,  and  there  to  be  molded  into  certain  forms 
for  a certain  purpose,  in  a self-acting  machine  hav- 
ing power  of  rapid  and  complex  adjustments  to  the 
constantly  varying  conditions  of  the  inorganic  world 
and  all  organized  beings  with  which  it  comes  into 
any  relation.  It  is  not  enough  that  Lime  and  Iron 
and  Silica  are  carried  to  certain  places,  but  they  are 
selected  in  proper  quantities  and  carried  where  they 
are  needed  for  a specific  purpose ; and  there  they 
are  mingled  with  other  materials  according  to  the 
office  they  are  to  perform,  and  then  are  molded  into 
bone  and  feather,  beak  or  talon,  as  the  case  requires, 
according  to  the  leading  idea  of  the  machine  in 
which  the  work  is  done.  All  this  is  entirely  differ- 
ent from  the  work  of  Chemistry  or  Mechanics, — so 
very  different  that  we  see  no  more  tendency  in 
Chemistry  and  Mechanics  to  set  this  machine  in 
motion  and  preside  over  its  operations,  even  with 
the  aid  of  all  the  favoring  conditions  of  the  universe, 
than  we  do  in  a finely  adjusted  machine  to  start  it- 
self. The  origination  of  organized  beings  through 


Functional  Action. 


89 


the  direct  agency  of  physical  forces  and  perpetual 
motion,  seem  to  us  to  stand  on  the  same  plane  sci- 
entifically considered.  But  if  one  doubts  this  or 
can  see  farther  and  discern  a transmutation  of  forces 
unperceived  by  common  minds,  still  the  fact  remains 
that  there  is  something  within  the  living  body  that 
works  with  a purpose  in  regard  to  the  whole  struct- 
ure at  any  given  time,  for  its  preservation  and  also 
for  the  continuance  of  the  kind.  It  not  only  selects 
proper  materials  for  its  work,  but  it  stores  up  ma- 
terial for  use  at  certain  times,  as  fat  in  the  fall  of 
the  year  for  the  use  of  hibernating  animals,  and  lime 
in  crustaceans  to  suddenly  form  the  new  shell  when 
the  old  one  is  cast.  It  thickens  the  covering  for 
winter  and  throws  off  hair  and  fur  when  they  are 
no  longer  needed.  When  bones  are  broken  or 
wounds  formed,  it  sets  in  motion  machinery  to  re- 
pair the  damage.  In  all  this  we  see  going  on  with- 
in the  body  perpetually  the  same  sort  of  work  that 
we  find  going  on  out  of  the  body  through  that  agen- 
cy which  we  call  Instinct.  And  however  diverse 
these  bodies  are  in  structure  and  the  function  of 
their  organs,  we  find  the  Instinct  connected  with 
each,  fitted  to  carry  out  to  perfection  the  work  be- 
gun within  the  body  where  the  senses  and  volition 
of  the  animal  have  no  agency  in  the  operations. 
We  can  say  of  every  animal  that  we  find  its  Physi- 
ology and  Instinct  working  together,  one  always 
supplementing  the  other  so  far  as  Instinct  is  need- 
ed to  secure  the  life  of  a single  animal  or  the  con- 
tinuance of  the  kind. 

And  so  far  as  we  can  see,  the  structure,  function 


90 


Instinct, 


and  lowest  form  of  Instinct  by  which  the  animal 
takes  food,  propagates  its  species  and  cares  for  its 
young  till  they  are  able  to  care  for  themselves, — all 
these  must  have  been  present  from  the  beginning 
of  each  species  as  it  now  exists.  If  present  species 
have  been  derived  from  other  species,  then  Struct- 
ure, Function  and  Instinct,  must  have  moved  on  in 
every  \change  in  the  individuals  that  survived,  so  as 
to  be  properly  called  the  ancestors  of  the  present 
species. 

It  is  only  fair  to  remark  that  this  is  no  argument 
against  evolution  of  species  from  one  form,  if  we 
suppose  this  evolution  provided  for  in  the  beginning 
and  all  these  activities  arranged  to  come  into  play 
at  the  same  time  and  work  together,  as  the  parts  of 
a clock  are  so  arranged  by  its  maker  that  the  hand 
shall  point  to  the  figures  and  the  hammer  give  the 
corresponding  number  of  blows — or  as  all  the  or- 
gans of  a flower  are  so  arranged  as  to  act  their  part 
at  the  proper  time  for  the  fertilization  of  the  seed. 

Having  made  these  general  statements  in  regard 
to  the  connection  between  the  instinct-like  opera- 
tions of  physiology  and  Instinct  itself,  we  may  en- 
large more  upon  the  method  in  which  Instinct  takes 
the  first  step  in  securing  the  welfare  of  the  individ- 
ual. We  have  already  referred  to  the  Instinct  of 
the  young  bird  which  enables  the  mother  to  provide 
for  it.  The  peculiar  Instincts  of  the  young  we  shall 
refer  to  in  another  connection.  We  speak  now  of 
the  adult  in  his  simplest  act  for  the  preservation  of 
his  own  existence.  The  selection  of  food  is  the  sim- 
plest instinctive  act  that  has  relation  to  the  whole 


Seciirmg  Food. 


91 


complex  organism,  and  it  is  the  lowest  that  involves 
any  exercise  of  the  senses  as  a condition  for  the  ex- 
ercise of  the  Instinct.  This  selection  of  the  propel 
kind  of  food  may  come  to  be  essentially  connected 
in  the  adult  with  very  complex  activities  and  animal 
powers  of  a high  rank. 

In  the  lowest  forms  of  entozoa  there  seems  to  be 
no  volition  in  taking  food,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  even 
in  the  adult.  The  food  is  simply  absorbed.  The 
coral  polyp  also  is  stationary,  as  is  the  oyster,  and 
both  must  feed  upon  materials  brought  to  them  by 
the  waters,  though  very  likely  there  is  volition  ex- 
ercised by  both  animals  in  the  process  of  selecting 
materials  from  the  waters.  But  the  most  wonder- 
ful part  of  these  animals,  that  which  evinces  the 
most  evident  design — the  coral  cells  that  form  the 
coral  branch  or  dome,  and  the  pearly  shell — are  the 
simple  products  of  growth, — volition  neither  origin- 
ates nor  changes  them.  In  higher  animals  we  find 
Instinct  manifested  not  only  in  selecting  food  from 
materials  presented,  but  in  seeking  for  it  and  secur- 
ing it.  To  do  this,  it  is  sometimes  necessary  that 
the  Instinct  of  one  animal  shall  take  advantage  of 
or  circumvent  the  Instinct  of  another.  The  Bald 
eagle  takes  advantage  of  the  Instinct  and  labor  of 
the  Fish-hawk  to  procure  fish  for  himself  by  rob- 
bery. The  Arctic  Jager  obtains  its  food  by  per- 
secuting the  Gulls.  And  a Southern  Gull  steals 
from  the  Pelican.  The  cat  tribe  know  without  in- 
struction how  to  watch  for  prey.  Those  animals 
that  must  feed  in  winter  when  no  food  can  be  ob- 
tained know  how  to  gather  in  stores,  though  they 


92 


Instinct. 


may  never  have  seen  a winter.  Those  that  sleep 
in  winter,  simply  prepare  a nest.  In  both  cases,  In- 
stinct supplements  function.  Migration  from  place 
to  place,  as  the  supply  of  food  changes,  is  the  meth- 
od of  solving  the  same  question  for  many  birds. 
Function  thickens  the  coat  of  the  animal  for  winter 
This  provision  is  just  as  needful  as  any  thing  In- 
stinct can  do,  but  Instinct  is  not  burdened  with  any 
thing  that  function  can  perform.  All  that  relates 
to  providing  food  in  the  first  instance  is  left  to  In- 
stinct. That  action  of  the  system  by  which  it  lives 
upon  the  fat  stored  up  in  the  fall  and  the  change 
that  takes  place  in  hibernation  by  which  the  ex- 
penditure of  material  is  lessened,  are  certainly  func- 
tional changes.  These  are  instinct-like  provisions 
of  the  system  ; but  the  securing  of  the  food  in  the 
first  instance  was  done  by  a principle  that  supple- 
ments structure  and  function ; and  this  principle  is 
something  entirely  different  from  them,  and  some- 
thing that  no  structure  or  function  of  the  animal 
system  would  suggest  the  existence  of,  except  as  we 
have  learned  by  observation  that  there  always  is  in 
the  animal  a directing  power  which  we  call  Instinct, 
to  supplement  the  structure  and  function  of  organs 
and  thus  to  complete  the  work  commenced  in  the 
body. 


LECTURE  IV, 


HIGHER  FORMS  OF  INSTINCT  FOR  THE  WELFARE 
OF  THE  INDIVIDUAL  OR  THE  SPECIES,  HAVING 
NO  IMMEDIATE  RELATION  TO  STRUCTURE  OR 
FUNCTION  OF  ORGANS. 

Intelligence  guided  by  experience. — Instinct  inaependent. — A natural 
development. — Building  of  nests  or  homes. — Perfection  of  nest 
no  test  of  the  animaVs  rank. — The  facts  of  Building  stated. — 
Relation  of  Building  to  Structure  and  Function. — Variation  in 
Building.  — Swallows.  — Thrushes.  — Oriole.  — Black  - birds.  — 
Sparrows.-^ Nests  from  different  localities. — Mr.  Wallace's  The- 
ory).— Difference  in  Building  Power. — Improvement  by  Practice. 
— The  Cow-bird.  — Supplementary  Instinct  of  the  Foster-parent. 
Change  of  Instinct  compared  with  change  in  plants. 

Is  that  Instinct  or  Reason?  is  the  common  ques- 
tion, when  an  animal  performs  some  act  that  com- 
mends itself  to  the  Reason  of  man.  Where  we  find 
animals  adapting  means  to  ends,  the  conclusion  is 
often  reached  that  there  is  Intelligence  to  guide  the 
act,  when  the  very  wisdom  of  the  act  proves  it  to 
be  instinctive, — that  is,  an  act  performed  without 
any  comprehension  by  the  actor  of  the  end  to  be 
reached.  Pure  Instinct  works  out  the  wisest  results 
with  the  certainty  almost  of  the  operations  of  the 
physical  forces  of  nature.  And  because  these  re- 
sults are  wise,  in  the  sense  of  being  adapted  to  se- 
cure the  welfare  of  the  actor,  and  because  volition 


94 


Instinct, 


is  brought  into  play,  it  is  a very  natural  thing  to  re- 
fer such  acts  to  Intelligence  in  the  actor,  which 
adapts  means  to  ends  through  a comprehension  of 
both  ends  and  means.  Great  confusion  has  arisen 
from  a failure  to  understand  that  the  first  introduc- 
tion of  Intelligence,  while  it  widens  the  sphere  of 
action,  always  renders  wise  results  less  certain  in 
the  beginning  than  they  are  in  the  sphere  of  pure 
Instinct.  Instinct  can  be  cheated,  as  we  shall  show, 
at  the  proper  time,  but  it  is  only  in  the  sphere  of 
Intelligence  that  mistakes  and  blunders  are  the 
common  result,  until  experience  whips  the  being  of 
Intelligence  into  the  right  road.  Pure  Instinct 
needs  no  experience.  It  goes  before  to  preserve 
life  until  knowledge  from  experience  is  possible. 
And  in  this  work  of  preserving  life  where  experi- 
ence could  not  be  secured,  it  often  performs  wise 
acts, — just  such  acts  as  in  beings  of  Intelligence  are 
performed  only  after  individual  experience  or  in- 
struction from  the  experience  of  others.  We  must 
throw  aside  at  once  then  that  notion  that  an  act  of 
wisdom  and  intelligence  is  absolute  proof  that  the 
wisdom  and  intelligence  reside  in  the  actor.  That 
question  can  only  be  determined  by  considering  the 
conditions  under  which  the  act  is  performed.  The 
best  corrective  to  these  hasty  conclusions  that  have 
been  formed  respecting  the  nature  of  Instinct  in 
animals,  from  the  kind  of  acts  it  secures,  is  found 
in  the  careful  study  of  those  operations  performed 
by  plants ; because  in  them,  there  is  no  danger  of 
being  misled  so  as  to  ascribe  wisdom  to  the  actor. 
This  is  one  reason  why  we  have  pointed  out  so 


Supplementary  Work, 


95 


many  of  these  peculiar  processes  in  the  vegetable 
kingdom.  The  same  instinct-like  processes  were 
traced  in  the  evolution  of  animals,  that  we  might 
find  the  exact  point  where  Instinct  comes  in  to  car- 
ry on  the  work  which  the  structure  and  function  of 
organs  both  demand.  We  cited  as  the  simplest  in- 
stance of  Instinct,  the  act  of  the  young  bird  just 
from  the  shell,  that  lifts  its  head  and  opens  its  bill 
to  receive  the  food  needful  to  carry  on  the  work 
thus  far  carried  on  by  the  use  of  the  material  in  the 
egg.  The  material  in  the  egg  was  just  sufficient  in 
quantity  and  had  the  proper  proportion  of  elements 
to  form  the  bird.  The  young  bird  came  from  the 
shell  with  a structure  capable  of  receiving  food, 
with  an  appetite  to  demand  it  and  with  an  Instinct 
to  receive  it  from  the  mother  as  in  the  case  of  the 
Robin,  or  to  select  and  secure  it  for  itself  as  in  the 
case  of  the  young  of  the  domestic  fowls. 

And  these  three  agencies.  Structure,  Function 
and  Instinct,  were  all  ready  to  enter  upon  their 
joint  action  at  the  same  time.  And  the  nature  or 
complexity  of  the  Instinct  varies  with  the  complex- 
ity of  structure  so  as  to  exactly  supplement  it.  If 
this  were  not  so  the  animal  must  die.  So  the  won- 
ders of  Instinct  are  no  greater  than  the  wonders  of 
physiology  in  preparing  and  distributing  food  for 
the  building  up  of  the  system,  or  the  wonders  of 
the  eye  that  is  ready  for  seeing  without  any  knowl- 
edge of  optics  on  the  part  of  its  possessor.  Instinct, 
pure  and  distinct,  in  all  its  complexity,  is  as  natural  a 
development  according  to  fixed  law,  as  wings  or 
teeth  or  claws  according  to  the  wants  of  the  ani- 


96 


Instinct. 


mal, — and  the  origin  and  development  of  one  is  just 
as  far  beyond  our  comprehension  as  the  other. 

The  taking  of  food  is  a prime  necessity  for  every 
animal.  The  necessity  begins  almost  at  the  instant 
independent  life  begins.  It  returns  with  regularity 
or  at  least  with  absolute  certainty  so  long  as  the 
vital  functions  continue  their  normal  activity.  And 
any  failure  to  meet  the  demands  of  the  appetite  for 
food  and  drink  prevents  all  development  and  ordi- 
narily brings  speedy  death. 

The  necessity  for  building  nests  or  homes  has  no 
such  immediate  relation  to  the  organization  of  the 
animal.  And  in  the  work  of  building  we  are  intro- 
duced at  once  to  the  higher  and  more  complex  acts 
of  Instinct. 

In  the  case  of  many  animals,  the  building  is  sim- 
ply a contrivance  for  rearing  young ; the  home 
never  being  used  except  for  the  production  and 
care  of  the  young,  and  therefore  not  being  any  thing 
growing  out  of  the  constant  necessities  of  the  indi- 
vidual, as  is  the  taking  of  food.  Some  animals 
never  build  at  all,  either  for  themselves  or  their 
young,  as  is  the  case  with  most  fishes  as  well  as 
with  many  of  the  larger  quadrupeds ; and  even 
some  birds  lay  their  eggs  upon  the  bare  rocks  or 
grass.  There  are  examples  enough  from  all  depart- 
ments of  the  animal  kingdom,  in  different  parts  of 
the  scale  of  rank,  to  show  that  building  is  by  no 
means  a prime  necessity  even  for  the  care  of  young. 
And  it  is  further  to  be  remarked  that  the  skill  in 
building  is  by  no  means  in  proportion  to  the  rank 
of  the  animal  in  the  intelligence  of  its  acts  in  regard 


Homes  of  Animals. 


97 


to  other  things.  In  fact  those  animals  which  in  their 
structure  and  mental  qualities  seem  to  approach 
nearest  humanity,  either  build  in  a very  rude  man- 
ner or  not  at  all.  In  many  cases  the  skill  to  build 
seems  to  be  greater  as  the  animal  is  lower  in  the 
scale.  Certain  it  is,  that  the  nest  is  no  test  of  the 
capability  of  the  animal  in  any  other  direction.  It 
seems  to  be  something  which  the  animal  has  the 
impulse  to  build  and  the  skill  to  build  because  it 
needs  it  for  its  own  welfare  or  that  of  the  species,  as 
the  silk  worm  winds  the  cocoon  for  a tomb  in  which 
to  pass  to  a higher  condition  of  life. 

There  are  certain  things  in  reference  to  this  ten- 
dency to  build  and  the  skill  in  doing  the  work  that 
are  not  only  curious  but  may  have  an  important 
bearing  upon  the  theories  respecting  the  origin  and 
development  of  animals. 

1.  We  find  in  some  cases  the  building  material 
wholly  or  partially  secreted  from  the  body  of  the 
builder, — as  the  silk  with  which  the  different  spe- 
cies of  spiders  weave  their  webs  or  form  their  curious 
nests,  and  the  wax  for  the  Honey-bee’s  comb.  In 
the  case  of  many  other  animals  the  sizing  or  cement 
is  apparently  furnished  from  the  body  of  the  build- 
er, as  in  the  case  of  hornets  and  wasps  of  various 
kinds  that  make  paper  and  the  hardest  kind  of 
paste-board  of  woody  fiber.  The  American  Swift 
or  Chimney-Swallow,  also  glues  together  the  sticks 
to  form  its  nest  with  a cement  from  the  glands  of 
its  throat. 

2.  Among  animals  very  nearly  allied  there  is 

5 


98 


Instinct, 


great  diversity  of  building  as  is  seen  especially 
among  bees  of  different  kinds ; as  the  Honey-bee 
with  its  waxen  wonder  and  the  Bumble-bee  with 
her  few  uncouth  cells,  chiefly  the  deserted  cocoons 
of  her  brood.  The  Carpenter-bee  and  others  give 
still  more  diverse  methods.  Among  the  wasp  tribe 
v/e  find  those  that  build  with  woody  fiber  and 
others  that  build  with  clay.  And  both  of  these 
materials  are  wrought  into  varied  forms  by  differ- 
ent species  of  the  wasp  tribe. 

3.  The  building  is  sometimes  the  work  of  the 
male  alone,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Sticklebacks  among 
fishes ; and  sometimes  of  the  female  alone,  as  the 
nest  of  the  Paper-wasp  prepared  for  the  first  brood 
of  workers  in  the  spring ; and  sometimes  it  is  the 
joint  labor  of  both  male  and  female,  as  among  miost 
birds. 

And  then  in  other  cases,  all  the  care  of  building 
belongs  to  a set  of  workers  that  never  produce 
young  themselves  but  seem  to  have  their  whole  en- 
ergy concentrated  on  the  work  of  providing  for  and 
defending  the  young  of  others.  The  White-ants 
and  Honey-bees  are  the  best  examples  of  such 
builders. 

4.  Those  animals  that  show  the  greatest  range 
of  building  power  are  those  that  build  in  the  rudest 
manner ; and  those  animals  that  attract  the  great- 
est attention  by  their  complicated  and  skilfuly 
constructed  homes,  are  those  that  work  almost  with 
the  exactness  of  machinery. 


Impulse  to  Build. 


99 


5.  When  we  find  different  methods  of  building 
practised  by  the  same  animal,  we  generally  observe 
the  same  uniformity  in  carrying  out  each  of  these 
methods,  as  we  find  among  animals  having  only 
one  method. 

The  house  of  the  Muskrat,  built  of  mud  and 
reeds  in  shallow  waters,  and  the  burrow  of  the 
same  animal  where  he  can  find  steep  banks,  are  two 
methods  by  which  he  adapts  himself  to  the  differ- 
ent conditions  of  the  places  he  inhabits ; but  each 
method  is  as  uniform,  in  itself  considered,  as  though 
that  were  the  only  method  practised  by  the  ani- 
mal. 

In  a certain  sense,  the  structure  of  an  animal’s 
organs  and  the  functions  of  his  body  have  a relation 
to  the  home  he  prepares,  for  it  is  by  structure  alone 
or  structure  and  function  combined  that  he  is  ena- 
bled to  build  at  all.  But  the  impulse  to  build  in 
the  large  majority  of  cases  is  one  that  has  so  remote 
a relation  to  the  structure  of  the  animal  or  his  wants, 
and  his  ability  to  build  so  far  transcends  what  we 
should  expect  from  an  examination  of  his  structure, 
that  we  could  never  tell  beforehand  how  any  ani- 
mal would  build.  Nothing  can  well  be  more  unlike 
than  the  homes  of  animals  that  we  should  naturally 
expect  would  build  in  the  same  manner. 

We  see  no  tendency  in  the  function  of  produc- 
ing young  even  to  originate  the  impulse  to  build  or 
to  give  the  skill  to  build  the  numerous  kinds  of 
nests  found  in  the  animal  kingdom.  In  some  cases 
we  see  the  need  of  the  nests  and  dens  if  the  young 
are  to  come  to  maturity  at  all  with  any  degree  of 


100 


Instinct. 


certainty ; but  the  need  arising  from  certain  condi- 
tions does  not  in  any  manner  account  for  the  origin 
of  the  impulse  to  do  a given  thing,  or  the  marvel- 
lous skill  often  manifested  to  meet  the  conditions 
which  the  necessity  imposes. 

If  we  consider  the  nests  of  birds  for  instance, 
which  are  the  animal  homes  best  known  to  us,  they 
nearly  all  are  made  simply  for  the  care  of  the  young; 
but  no  one  could  tell  from  the  examination  of  a 
bird,  what  materials  it  would  select  for  its  nest,  its 
method  of  combining  them  or  the  position  of  the 
nest.  Birds  very  nearly  allied  differ  much  in  their 
habits  of  nesting,  and  yet  in  each  case  the  nest  is  so 
uniform  in  its  structure  and  surroundings  as  to  be 
in  general  characteristic  of  the  species.  That  is, 
birds  of  the  same  species,  under  the  same  circum- 
stances, build  with  like  materials  and  in  like  posi- 
tions. Any  departure  from  the  common  method 
of  building  in  any  given  locality  will  be  found,  on 
careful  examination,  to  be  very  slight,  and  to  be  so 
uniform  in  the  variation,  according  to  the  surround- 
ing conditions,  as  to  appear  to  be  a manifestation 
of  a wider  range  of  Instinct  than  had  generally  been 
attributed  to  the  bird,  rather  than  a result  of  intel- 
ligent contrivance,  as  is  seen  among  men.  The  va- 
riation in  the  form  of  nest  once  seen  can  be  described 
as  the  certain  work  of  the  animal  when  circum- 
stances demand  or  favor  the  change  ; the  new  man- 
ifestation of  instinctive  knowledge  and  skill  being 
made  in  a specific  method  to  meet  the  new  condi- 
tions. 

We  need  only  call  attention  to  a few  of  our  well 


Swallows. 


lOI 


known  birds  to  show  that  each  species  instinctively 
gathers  the  same  materials  for  its  nests,  combines 
them  in  the  same  manner,  and  selects  for  its  nests 
similar  positions  ; and  also  to  show  that  birds  of  the 
same  family,  and  even  of  the  same  genus,  differ  more 
from  each  other  in  all  these  particulars,  than  many 
birds  do  that  are  far  removed  from  each  other,  ac- 
cording to  the  structure  of  organs  and  apparent 
ability  to  build. 

One  of  the  Swallow  family,  like  a skilful  mason, 
fastens  its  nest  of  mortar  against  the  frame-work  of 
the  old  barn  ; another,  with  the  same  materials,  fash- 
ions a more  curious  nest  still,beneath  the  eaves  of 
the  same  building, — both  species  preferring  these 
places,  when  they  can  be  found,  to  such  places  as 
they  are  compelled  to  setect  beyond  the  habitations 
of  man.  Another  Swallow  makes  her  grassy  bed  in 
a hollow  tree,  another  digs  deep  holes  in  steep  sandy 
banks,  for  its  young.  The  so  called  Chimney-swal- 
low finds  its  favorite  home  in  hollow  trees  or  in  the 
chimney  of  the  farm-house,  where  it  plasters  its  hard 
nest  of  sticks  against  the  mason  work  with  a cement 
secreted  from  its  own  body.  If  we  class  this  bird 
near  the  Night-hawks,  as  some  do,  the  difference  in 
nesting  is  as  marked,  for  the  Night-hawks  can  hard- 
ly be  said  to  form  nests  at  all.  No  examination  of 
these  birds  would  enable  the  best  Ornithologist  in 
the  world  to  predict  what  materials  would  be  used 
for  the  nest  of  each,  the  form  of  the  nest,  or  its 
position.  The  facts  can  be  learned  by  observation 
only.  But  when  the  habits  of  each  species,  in 
nesting,  have  once  been  learned,  they  are  always 


102 


Instinct. 


given  in  describing  the  bird  as  something  so  con- 
stant from  generation  to  generation, as  to  be  worthy 
of  study  as  characteristics  of  the  species. 

Among  the  Thrushes,  the  well  known  Robin 
builds  its  rude  nest  of  mud  and  grass  in  almost  any 
elevated  place,  while  other  birds  of  the  same  ge- 
nus, as  the  Brown  thrush,  use  no  mud  in  the  con- 
struction of  their  nests  and  often  place  them  upon 
the  ground.  The  brilliantly  colored  Oriole  weaves 
her  pendant  nest  upon  slender,  drooping  branches. 
The  nearly  allied  Crow-blackbird  builds  its  nest 
entirely  unlike  this,  of  coarse  materials,  on  the 
most  solid  basis  it  can  select,  while  the  Cow-black- 
bird, like  the  European  Cuckoo,  never  builds  at  all; 
but  deposits  its  eggs  in  the  nests  of  other  birds 
that  its  young  may  be  cared  for  by  them. 

Most  of  our  sparrows  build  simple  nests  upon 
the  ground,  while  the  Chipping-sparrow,  like  the 
Canada  Bunting,  is  known  as  “Tree-sparrow,” 
and  also  as  “ Hair-bird,”  because  it  generally 
builds  in  trees  and  lines  its  nest  with  hair. 
What  can  be  more  curious,  or  mark  more  strong- 
ly the  peculiar  nature  of  Instinct,  than  that 
thousands  of  birds  of  the  same  kind  should  form 
nests  of  the  same  pattern,  selecting  materials  of  the 
same  kind  for  the  different  parts,  when  no  possible 
reason  can  be  given  why  another  form  would  not 
do  as  well  for  the  bird  and  be  as  easy  for  her  to 
build ! 

It  is  true,  when  we  examine  nests  of  the  same 
species  in  different  localities,  that  we  find  difference 
in  material,  difference  in  the  perfection  of  the  work, 


Uniformity  of  the  work. 


103 


and  difference  in  the  position  of  the  nests.  But 
when  we  have  discounted  all  these  differences,  there 
remains  a permanence  of  type  to  the  work  of  Ifi- 
stinct  in  each  species,  almost  equal  to  the  perma- 
nence of  structure,  size,  color  and  other  character- 
istics that  mark  the  species.  So  that  we  may  fair- 
ly say  that  the  uniformity  of  Instinct  in  the  work 
of  building,  approaches  the  uniformity  of  physical 
function  in  giving  character  to  the  animal. 

We  have  here  then  two  very  distinct  statements 
to  make  that  seem  borne  out  by  careful  observa- 
tion. 

First, — That  in  the  same  species  there  is  in 
general  great  uniformity  in  all  the  elements  of 
building,  as  to  materials,  form,  skilful  work  and  posi- 
tion. And, 

Second, — That  birds  so  nearly  allied  as  to  be- 
long to  the  same  family,  and  even  the  same  genus, 
build  in  such  diverse  methods  that  their  nests  have 
little  or  nothing  in  common,  except  that  they  are 
nests. 

If  we  start  with  the  assumption  that  each  fami- 
ly of  birds  came  from  one  ancestor,  it  is  perplexing 
to  understand  how  the  slight  differences  of  struc- 
ture which  mark  the  distinction  between  many  spe- 
cies, should  be  accompanied  by  such  change  of  In- 
stinct that  there  should  be  such  great  diversity  in 
building  among  birds  of  nearly  allied  species  inhab- 
iting the  same  district ; and  yet  such  great  uni- 
formity and  permanence  of  method  among  birds  of 
the  same  species. 

That  the  Baltimore  Oriole  should  always  hang 


104 


Instinct. 


its  nest  as  it  does,  or  that  the  Chipping-sparrow 
should  line  its  nest  with  hair,  and  so  on  of  the  pe- 
culiar characteristics  of  the  nests  of  hundreds  of 
birds,  are  things  which  cannot  be  satisfactorily  ac- 
counted for,  by  any  appeal  to  the  force  of  habit  or  any 
thing  connected  with  the  physical  nature  of  the  bird. 

It  has  been  noticed  by  Mr.  Wallace,  in  his  val- 
uable contribution  to  Natural  History,*  that  birds 
generally  build  with  the  materials  most  convenient 
for  them  ; and  this  is  undoubtedly  true  as  a gener- 
al proposition,  as  it  is  true  that  they  eat  the  food 
most  convenient  for  them.  And  they  select  for 
their  breeding-places  regions  where  the  conditions 
of  building  and  feeding  are  best  for  them.  This 
selection  of  localities  by  long  journeys  even,  is  a 
part  of  their  instinctive  work. 

But  it  is  not  true  that  birds  select  the  most 
convenient  material  for  building  to  any  such  ex- 
tent as  to  lead  us  to  infer  that  they  learned  to 
build  with  any  particular  materials  simply  because 
they  were  abundant.  For  different  kinds  of  birds 
living  in  the  same  region,  build  their  nests  upon 
very  different  plans,  and  very  many  of  them  build 
of  materials  that  are  by  no  means  abundant.  It 
is  difficult  to  tell  why  the  Great-crested  Fly-catcher 
uses  the  cast-off  skins  of  snakes  in  building  its 
nests ; but,  certainly,  it  is  not  because  they  are  the 
most  abundant  materials  that  it  can  find. 

If  the  exact  material  the  birds  wish  for  cannot 
be  found,  they  select  that  most  like  it  as  a substi- 


* “Natural  Selection/’  p.  215. 


Wallace  s Theory. 


105 


tute.  The  materials  are  then  woven  in  a manner 
peculiar  to  each  species,  so  that  the  nest  of  the 
bird,  in  very  many  cases,  can  be  as  certainly  known 
when  found  deserted  as  it  would  be  with  the  bird 
upon  it.  And  when  a new  bird  is  discovered  and 
its  nest  is  found,  that  is  described  with  nearly  the 
same  expectation  on  the  part  of  the  Naturalist 
that  all  other  birds  of  that  species  will  nest  in  the 
same  manner,  as  that  they  will  produce  eggs  of  the 
same  size,  form  and  color.  The  character  of  the 
nest  depends  not  only  upon  the  material  used  but 
upon  the  form  and  the  method  in  which  the  mate- 
rial is  combined.  The  theory  is  broached  by  Wal- 
lace,* that  the  young  bird  studies  the  nest,  and  so 
builds  by  imitation.  To  say  nothing  of  the  want 
of  observation  which  he  shows  in  talking  of  the 
young  birds  as  coming  back  to  the  nest,  which  sel- 
dom, if  ever,  happens  among  birds  that  build  open 
nests,  as  the  large  majority  of  birds  do,— he  seems 
to  overlook  the  fact  that  skill  in  combining  the  ma- 
terials for  the  nest,  is  the  marvel.  It  is  not  so  much 
that  the  bird  knows  how  the  nest  is  made  as  that 
she  is  able  to  make  the  nest  at  all, — especially  that 
certain  kinds  of  birds  are  able  to  build  such  com- 
plicated nests  the  first  time  the  attempt  is  made. 
Let  Mr.  Wallace  study  the  nest  of  a Baltimore  Oriole 
or  of  a Chipping-sparrow  twice  as  long  as  the  young 
birds  remain  in  it,  even  counting  the  days  before 
their  eyes  are  open,  and  let  him  then  go  to  work 
with  all  the  implements  the  most  skilful  mechanic 


* “ Natural  Selection,”  pp.  223-3. 
5* 


io6  Instinct. 

can  furnish, — let  him  work  a month,  and  if  he  can 
produce  as  good  a nest  as  the  bird  will  build  in  a 
week  with  its  beak  and  claws,  we  will  listen  patient- 
ly to  the  arguments  to  prove  that  birds  learn  by 
observation  to  build  nests.  We  can  hardly  do  so 
now. 

But  it  is  said  that  some  nests  of  the  same  spe- 
cies are  better  built  than  others.  Certainly. 
Sometimes  undoubtedly  it  is  impossible  for  the 
bird  to  find  the  best  materials;  sometimes  there 
may  be  structural  difficulties  in  the  bird  that  inter- 
fere with  skilful  work,  and  it  would  certainly  be  dif- 
ferent from  any  thing  else  in  nature  if  we  did  not 
find  birds  of  the  same  species  differing  somewhat  in 
the  nest-building  power,  as  they  do  in  size,  beauty 
of  plumage  and  power  of  song.  It  is  possible  that 
there  is  real  improvement  by  practice,  as  Wilson 
long  ago  suggested,  but  there  are  no  facts  that  are 
conclusive  proof  of  it.  And  after  discounting  all 
differences  found  among  nests  of  the  same  species, 
we  have  still  remaining  in  the  manufacture  of  some 
nests,  manifestations  of  skill  that  no  human  work- 
man can  approach  with  the  same  materials.  A 
careful  examination  of  the  nests  of  birds  will  con- 
vince any  one  that  there  is  given  to  each  species, 
without  experience  or  instruction,  a tendency  to 
build  nests,  that  arises  as  spontaneously  as  hunger 
arises  at  stated  times  from  waste  of  tissue.  There  is 
also  an  impulse  to  select  certain  materials  for  the  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  nest ; and  this  impulse  is  as  fixed 
as  is  the  law  of  growth  which  gives  to  the  bird  a 
certain  color  or  thickness  of  feather,  both  of  which 


Intelligence, 


107 


may  vary  according  to  the  different  conditions  of 
the  bird.  And  lastly,  there  is  the  skill  to  combine 
the  materials ; and  this  comes  by  the  same  sort  of 
law  as  that  by  which  the  talons  of  the  bird  of  prey  are 
fitted  for  their  work,  or  ornaments  of  color  and 
form  of  feather  are  so  skilfully  arranged  on  birds 
as  to  challenge  the  admiration  of  the  greatest  mas- 
ters of  art.  The  perfect  form  of  beak  and  talon  and 
the  ornamentation  of  feathers  are  the  result  of 
growth  ; but  because  the  work  of  building  nests  in- 
volves volition^  the  same  sort  of  wisdom  and  skill 
are  often  referred  to  the  bird  as  would  be  found  in 
a human  being  who  could  perform  the  same  work. 
But  a human  being  having  Intelligence,  that  is,  the 
power  of  comprehending  the  relation  of  means  to 
ends,  would  be  compelled  to  study  and  work  long 
to  gain  the  knowledge  and  skill  which  the  bird  has 
as  an  original  gift — as  it  has  fine  feathers  without 
borrowing  them  and  artistic  ornaments  without  la- 
bor or  price.  Intelligence,  wherever  found,  has  the 
blessed  privilege  of  laboring  in  order  to  learn,  and 
the  condition  of  enjoyment  through  learning,  never 
ends;  but  the  knowledge  and  skill  of  Instinct  come 
without  effort.  There  is  no  joy  in  acquiring  and 
no  basis  for  self-improvement  from  Instinct  alone. 
The  animal  doomed  to  live  under  the  guidance  of 
Instinct  alone,  has  its  knowledge  and  skill  at  the 
appointed  time  as  regularly  and  as  spontaneously 
as  hunger  or  thirst. 

That  birds  may  have  a ray  of  Intelligence  we 
shall  not  here  pretend  to  deny.  When  we  come  to 
trace  out  the  relation  of  instinctive  acts  to  the 


io8 


Instinct, 


work  of  Intelligence,  we  may  be  ready  to  grant  to 
some  of  them  a good  measure  of  Intelligence. 
What  we  wish  now  especially  to  controvert,  is  the 
doctrine  that  all  Instinct  is  the  result  of  observa- 
tion, either  of  the  present  races  or  of  past  races, 
from  which  the  fixed  habits  have  been  transmitted, 
or  that  high  wisdom  and  skill  manifested  in  an  act, 
are  any  certain  proof  of  comprehension  on  the  part 
of  the  actor. 

One  of  the  most  conclusive  arguments  against 
this  doctrine,  that  birds  build  nests  by  observa- 
tion or  the  study  of  the  nest  in  which  they  were 
hatched,  is  found  in  the  habits  of  the  Cow-bird  {Mo- 
lothrus  pecoris)  already  referred  to.  This  bird  nev- 
er builds  a nest  at  all.  The  young  Cow-birds  wake 
to  life  in  all  sorts  of  nests  where  their  mothers  de- 
posit their  eggs, — in  Ground-sparrows’  and  Tree- 
sparrows’  nests — in  Warblers’  and  Vireos’  nests. 
Now  according  to  the  observation  theory,  we  ought 
to  find  these  birds  building  nests;  and  such  nests 
as  each  one  was  raised  in.  But  we  find  Instinct  as- 
serting its  sway.  In  the  spring  time  we  see  hun- 
dreds of  these  birds  in  New  England  congregating 
together — not  with  the  birds  in  whose  nests  they 
were  hatched.  We  find  them  with  a note  of  their 
own  and  in  spite  of  their  opportunity  of  observa- 
tion and  in  spite  of  the  care  of  their  foster-parents, 
we  see  these  perverse  birds  refusing  to  build  nests 
of  any  kind,  but  putting  out  their  own  young  to  be 
cared  for  by  other  birds,  just  as  their  own  parents 
did.  They  follow  the  habits  of  their  parents. 


Defective  Instinct  Supplemented.  109 

although  they  never  saw  them,  and  perversely  throw 
aside  all  the  instruction  of  their  foster-parents, 
which  they  enjoyed  oftentimes  to  the  detriment 
or  destruction  of  the  rightful  birdlings  of  the  nest. 

We  here  observe  two  things  that  impress  us 
with  the  blindness  as  well  as  certainty  with  which 
Instinct  operates,  when  performing  those  works 
which  often  appear  so  wise.  The  Cow-bird  simply 
finds  a nest,  deposits  an  egg  and  leaves  it  to  its 
fate.  The  Instinct  of  the  mother  stops  there  ; and 
the  whole  race  of  Cow-birds  would  speedily  become 
extinct  if  this  apparently  defective  Instinct  were 
not  supplemented  by  the  Instinct  of  the  foster- 
mother  that  broods  upon  the  egg  as  though  it  were 
her  own,  and  then  feeds  the  strange  bird  hatched  from 
it,  until  it  becomes  twice  her  own  size,  it  may  be, 
and  entirely  unlike  her  own  young.  Though  this 
young  intruder  often  pitches  all  the  rightful  occu- 
pants of  the  nest  upon  the  ground  to  die,  yet  the 
foster-mother  does  not  generally  detect  the  imposi- 
tion practised  upon  her.  If  her  Instinct  were  not  at 
fault  there  would  soon  be  an  end  of  Cow-birds.  But 
if  Cow-birds  are  to  exist  at  all,  then  the  perfection 
and  wisdom  manifested  in  the  foster-mother’s  In- 
stinct consists  in  the  certainty  of  her  being  de- 
ceived and  thus  doing  for  the  Cow-bird  the  work 
which  its  parent  refused  or  failed  to  do  for  it. 

In  a certain  sense  the  nest-building  Instinct  of 
birds  is  connected  with  the  function  of  producing 
young ; but  the  connection  is  very  remote  compared 


no 


Instinct. 


with  the  connection  between  hunger  or  thirst  and 
the  Instinct  that  enables  the  animal  to  satisfy  the 
appetites.  At  the  proper  time  the  bird  returns,  it 
may  be  from  the  south,  to  its  proper  breeding-place, 
chooses  its  mate,  if  that  were  not  done  before  the 
journey  commenced,  and  in  due  time  commences 
the  work  of  nest  building.  The  peculiar  nature  of 
Instinct  is  shown  first  in  this,  that  the  bird  builds 
its  nest  before  it  is  really  needed,  and  also  in  the 
materials  selected,  their  skilful  arrangement  and  in 
the  form  and  position  of  the  nest ; ail  constant  or 
very  nearly  so,  in  the  same  species. 

All  the  differences  that  have  been  pointed  out  in 
nests  of  the  same  species  of  birds  are  not  greater  than 
can  be  pointed  out  in  the  habits  of  the  same  species  of 
plants^  by  which ^ through  some  law  of  their  growth, 
they  adapt  themselves  to  the  conditions  of  the  place 
where  they  chance  to  grow.  We  are  prepared  to  say 
then  that  while  we  do  not  deny  a degree  of  Intelli- 
gence, even  to  birds,  we  regard  their  most  perfect 
and  wonderful  works,  those  often  referred  to  as 
proofs  of  Intelligence,  to  be  the  products  of  Instinct 
that  works  by  a wisdom  of  which  its  possessor  has 
no  comprehension. 


LECTURE  V. 


SOME  MANIFESTATIONS  OF  HIGHER  INSTINCT.— 
RELATION  OF  INSTINCT  TO  SPECIAL  STRUCT- 
URE AND  FUNCTION. 

Relation  of  the  Appetites  to  the  Instincts. — Perfection  of  the  work  no 
proof  of  Intelligence  in  the  Actor. — Test  of  Intelligence. — Flexi- 
bility of  Instinct. — The  Ampelopsis. — The  Bean. — The  Potato, — 
The  K7iowledge  of  Eneynies  among  Fowls. — Common  defence. — 
Simulation  of  death. — Instmct  and  Climatic  change. — The  Musk- 
rat.— The  Paj'tridge, — Instincts  learned  from  observatio7i  alone. 
— Instincts  essential  to  life. — Origin  of  instinctive  powers. — Hi- 
bernation.— Difficulties  of  the  Natural  Selection  Theory. — Special 
Structures. — The  Rattlesnake,  Bee,  Wasp  and  Hornet. — Rela- 
tion of  Instinct  to  color  and  form. — Cases  cited  from  Wallace.—^ 
Relation  of  Instinct  to  Experience. — Seventeen-year  Locusts. 

We  have  thus  far  treated  of  Instinct  chiefly  as  sup- 
plementing structure  and  function  of  organs,  either 
directly  or  indirectly.  There  is  a certain  function 
of  the  stomach  that  produces  the  sensation  of  hun- 
ger. Instinct  takes  up  the  work  and  allays  this 
craving  by  supplying  the  materials  that  satisfy  it, — 
and  the  materials  that  satisfy  it  in  each  animal  are 
the  materials  fitted  to  prolong  his  life  and  build 
up  the  body.  This  chain  of  m^eans  is  complete. 
The  links  all  join  together — they  are  links  of  physi- 
cal necessity,  if  the  animal  kingdom  is  to  be  kept  on 
this  globe.  In  hundreds  of  kinds  of  animals  they  arc 


II2 


Instinct. 


as  ready  to  do  their  appointed  work  the  instant  the 
animal  bursts  from  the  egg,  as  they  are  at  any  sub- 
sequent period  of  life,  as  in  the  case  of  the  majority 
of  insects  and  fishes  that  never  know  a parent’s  care. 

It  is  sometimes  said  that  hunger  is  instinctive. 
A careful  consideration  of  the  activities  will  show 
this  statement  to  be  an  abuse  of  terms.  Much  con- 
fusion has  arisen  by  confounding  the  appetites  with 
the  Instincts  or  from  a misapprehension  of  their 
relations  to  each  other.  The  appetites  proper,  as 
the  appetite  for  food,  arise  directly  from  the  func- 
tional action  of  some  organ.  The  functional  action 
of  the  stomach,  for  instance,  producing  hunger, 
calls  Instinct  into  play  to  procure  the  proper  food. 
And  this  may  be  said  of  the  appetites,  that  they 
are  the  condition  for  the  activity  of  certain  Instincts 
calling  them  into  play  to  carry  out  to  completion 
the  work,  to  which  the  appetites  furnish  the  first  im- 
pulse ; that  is,  the  continuance  of  the  individual  or 
species.  Some  of  the  works  that  have  their  origin 
in  an  impulse  of  appetite  are  so  complicated  that 
they  give  rise  to  whole  series  of  acts  involving  a 
varied  and  wonderful  adaptation  of  means  to  ends, 
as  is  the  case  among  birds  in  all  their  work  of  rear- 
ing  young  referred  to  in  the  last  lecture.  But  so 
long  as  the  same  results  are  reached  by  the  same 
means  by  thousands  of  individuals  without  experience 
or  instruction,  we  have  no  ground  for  inferring  that 
there  is  comprehension  of  means  and  ends  in  the  actor. 
In  fact  the  more  complex  and  perfect  the  work  per- 
formed, provided  it  is  pe7formed  withoid  instruction 
or  chance  for  experience,  the  more  certain  it  is  that 


Self-adjusting  Power, 


113 

such  work  was  blindly  performed  under  the  control 
of  some  law  of  life,  as  certain  in  its  action,  and  yet 
as  free  from  wisdom  or  contrivance  in  the  actor,  as 
the  growth  of  organs  or  the  activity  of  the  organs 
when  the  good  of  the  being  demands  it.  Intelli- 
gence in  the  actor  works  by  no  such  uniform  meth- 
ods. 

But  it  is  said  there  is  not  only  adaptation  of 
means  to  ends  among  animals  but  such  a variation 
of  action  according  to  the  change  of  conditions 
as  to  show  comprehension  on  the  part  of  the  actor. 
If  there  is  truly  comprehension  and  specific  ac- 
tion in  consequence  of  it,  showing  that  means  and 
ends  and  their  relation  to  each  other  are  all  under- 
stood by  the  actor,  then  we  plainly  have  intelli- 
gence. But  in  many  cases  there  is  no  proof  of  com- 
prehension where  it  is  claimed.  It  seems  to  be  the 
nature  of  Instinct  to  vary  within  certain  limits  to 
meet  the  change  of  conditions  in  the  world  around 
it,  as  the  balance-wheel  of  the  watch,  made  of  differ- 
ent metals,  adjusts  itself  to  almost  continual  change 
of  temperature  so  as  to  give  uniform  results  in  the 
movement  of  the  watch.  It  is  the  office  of  Instinct 
to  do  a certain  work  to  keep  the  animal  in  the  world. 
To  do  this  it  must  vary  somewhat  in  its  action  ac- 
cording to  external  conditions,  but  no  more,  nor  in 
a more  wonderful  manner,  than  the  organs  or  func- 
tions vary  in  their  activity  in  both  animals  and 
plants,  to  meet  the  change  of  conditions  in  the 
world  around  them.  Does  not  the  eye  adjust  itself 
without  Intelligence,  to  the  change  of  light  within 
certain  limits?  Does  not  the  coat  of  fur  thicken 


Instmct. 


1 14 

upon  animals  as  winter  approaches,  to  be  thrown 
off  again,  without  volition,  when  the  warmth  of 
spring  makes  it  no  longer  needful,  but  a burden? 
Even  among  plants,  we  find  such  change  of  action 
according  to  surrounding  conditions,  that  nothing 
would  save  them  from  being  charged  with  acting 
by  contrivance  and  forethought,  except  that  they 
are  plants.  If  a Woodbine  [Ampelopsis  quinquefolici) 
can  find  a support  on  which  it  can  wind  its  tendrils, 
it  will  do  so,  like  the  Grape-vine  and  many  other 
climbing  plants  ; but  if  it  can  find  no  such  support, 
it  will  fasten  the  ends  of  its  tendrils  against  the 
smooth  walls  by  broad  disks  and  thus  hold  itself  in 
place.  This  beautiful  vine  was  evidently  made  to 
climb  walls ; and  within  certain  limits,  its  method 
of  growth  changes  to  meet  the  circumstances  of  the 
case.  A bean,  which  must  climb,  hunts  for  a pole 
by  causing  the  terminal  bud  to  describe  larger  cir- 
cles as  the  vine  lengthens.  It  will  find  the  pole  on 
one  side  of  the  hill  as  well  as  on  the  other  within 
certain  limits, — that  is,  if  the  pole  is  near  enough 
for  the  vine  to  reach  it  before  its  weight  brings  it 
to  the  ground.  It  will, even  then,  often  make  a sec- 
ond attempt  from  its  new  centre  of  support.  The 
eyes  or  buds  of  the  potato  may  be  pointed  towards 
the  centre  of  the  earth,  but  when  the  sprouts  start 
they  will  bend  and,  avoiding  all  obstacles  that  op- 
pose them  within  certain  limits,  will  push  their  way 
to  the  light.  These  and  a multitude  of  other  plants 
not  only  show  adaptation  of  means  to  ends  in 
their  mode  of  growth,  but  the  mode  of  growth  va- 
ries according  to  the  conditions  in  which  the  plant 


Higher  Mariifestations.  1 1 5 

is  placed.  In  the  animal  kingdom  there  are  just  as 
plain  cases  of  variation  of  method  where  no  com- 
prehension can  be  fairly  inferred,  but  where  it  is 
often  presumed  to  be  present  simply  because  the 
acts  are  voluntary.  We  have  here  another  illustra- 
tion of  the  value  of  a more  careful  study  of  plant 
life  and  the  functional  changes  of  the  animal  king- 
dom to  adapt  its  members  to  the  conditions,  of  the 
world,  in  correcting  many  hasty  conclusions  and  in 
leading  us  to  study  the  conditions  of  any  act  more 
carefully  than  is  generally  done,  before  we  refer  its 
wisdom  or  the  contrivance  manifested  by  it,  to  the 
comprehension  of  the  actor. 

We  have  perhaps  sufficiently  considered  the 
Instincts  as  ministering  to  the  demands  of  the  ap- 
petites. But  there  are  instinctive  acts  that  have 
no  possible  relation  to  the  appetites  or  any  function 
of  organs,  so  far  as  we  can  see.  They  arise  from 
some  power  of  knowing, or  mode  of  acting,  given  to 
the  animal  as  its  original  endowment,  such  as  could 
be  gained  by  man  only  from  experience  or  instruc- 
tion. The  fear  of  a particular  enemy  is  an  exam- 
ple, as  the  fear  of  birds  of  prey  by  our  domestic 
fowls.  Fear  of  danger  is  an  Instinct  common  to  all 
animals  as  well  as  man  ; and  a bird  may  certainly 
learn  by  experience,  that  certain  things  are  danger- 
ous. In  all  cases  where  an  animal  learns  by  expe- 
rience, there  may  be  a claim  set  up  that  there  is 
Intelligence ; though  here  there  is  great  need  of 
caution,  as  many  cases  of  apparent  learning  from 
experience  can  be  fairly  brought  under  that  princi- 
ple of  Instinct,  which  we  have  already  explained, 


Instinct, 


1 16 

by  which  it  varies  within  certain  limits,  to  meet 
change  of  condition  in  the  world  around  it. 

But  the  peculiar  fear  which  all  grain-eating  birds 
have  of  hawks,  even  when  they  are  seen  for  the  first 
time,  is  marvellous.  The  domestic  fowls  always 
know  their  enemy, — raise  the  cry  of  alarm, — and  even 
the  young  chickens  rush  to  cover.  Young  birds  of 
other  kinds,  in  the  nest,  unable  to  fly  and  as  5^et 
having  no  experience  of  evil,  shrink  with  wild  ter- 
ror from  a hawk. 

The  fact  that  the  fowl  knows  every  bird  of  prey 
at  first  sight,  as  something  to  be  specially  dread- 
ed, is  a thing  that  marks  the  manifestation  of  Instinct 
as  peculiar ; and  for  the  existence  of  this  peculiar 
terror  no  rational  account  can  be  given,  except  that 
this  instinctive  dread  is  an  original  endowment  of 
the  fowl,  without  which  the  species  would  be  de- 
stroyed. All  attempts  to  resolve  it  into  habit  or 
experience,  seem  to  us  to  utterly  fail,  as  we  shall  at- 
tempt to  show  in  a future  lecture.  It  is  one  of 
the  original  outfits  essential  for  the  preservation 
of  the  species,  and  therefore  could  no  more  be  left 
to  experience  than  the  Instinct  for  selecting  food 
could  be  left  to  experience. 

There  is  not  only  instinctive  recognition,  by 
the  fowl,  of  the  hawk  as  an  enemy,  but  Instinct 
also  makes  every  fowl  a sentinel  for  all  the  rest 
of  the  flock.  The  first  one  that  sees  the  enemy 
does  not  seek  its  own  safety  alone,  but  instantly 
raises  the  cry  of  alarm,  which  all  its  fellows,  even 
the  youngest,  instantly  understand.  That  note  is 
like  no  other,  but  it  is  common  to  all  fowls  when 


Fear  of  Eyiemies. 


117 

the  enemy  is  seen.  This  peculiar  fear,  the  note  of 
warning,  the  instant  recognition  of  it  by  all  oth- 
ers, and  the  impulse  to  hide  when  the  alarm  is 
sounded,  are,  taken  together,  a perfect  adaptation 
of  means  to  ends ; such  as  might  be  arranged 
among  men  by  agreement.  But  here  we  find  this 
social  machinery  in  operation  at  once  among  all 
fowls.  Each  one  acts  its  part  instinctively,  with  the 
same  precision  and  certainty  as  its  hunger  comes  to 
aid  in  the  preservation  of  its  life,  or  its  wings  grow 
in  the  best  mechanical  form  for  flying. 

Among  grain-eating  and  insect-eating  birds 
there  is  also  a common  call  or  warning  note,  heeded 
not  by  one  species  only  but  by  many,  when  there 
is  common  danger  from  birds  of  prey.  It  is  not  an 
uncommon  thing  to  see  hawks  chased  by  several 
kinds  of  birds  at  the  same  time,  especially  the  spar- 
row hawks,  that  are  dangerous  to  the  small  birds. 
A most  remarkable  instance  of  this  united  action 
of  the  different  species  of  birds  in  protecting  each 
other,  came  under  my  own  observation.  A small 
owl  was  fastened  near  a house  in  daytime,  and  was 
accidentally  seen  by  a robin,  that  raised  the  alarm 
of  danger.  Instantly,  from  all  directions,  the  note 
was  answered,  and  birds  of  different  kinds  were  seen 
flying  towards  the  spot.  Within  five  minutes, 
more  than  fifty  birds,  representing  fourteen  differ- 
ent species,  were  in  the  tree  and  doing  what  they 
could  to  drive  away  or  torment  their  common  en- 
emy, the  owl. 

There  are  other  methods  of  saving  life  by  in- 
stinctive acts,  that  are  so  uniform  and  yet  vary  so 


ii8 


Instinct. 


much  in  details  to  suit  particular  cases,  that  they 
are  worthy  of  study,  as  parts  of  that  complex  ma- 
chinery by  which  nature  provides  for  her  species,  so 
that  they  may  have  a fair  chance  in  the  struggle 
for  existence. 

The  simulating  of  death  is  a common  instinctive 
act  with  many  animals.  If  we  referred  this  device 
to  any  comprehension  of  means  to  ends  by  the  ac 
tor,  it  would,  in  its  different  manifestations,  be  rank- 
ed with  the  most  adroit  cunning  among  men.  But 
the  varied  conditions  under  which  this  instinctive 
act  is  manifested,  forbid  our  referring  it  to  any  thing 
but  an  original  gift,  as  free  from  contrivance  on  the 
part  of  the  actor  as  is  his  form  or  color.  The  sim- 
ulation of  death  is  common  to  many  of  the  insect 
tribe  and  to  the  Opossum,  whose  success  in  the 
trick  is  so  well  known  as  to  make  his  name  a by- 
word. We  find  the  same  simulation  of  death  among 
the  young  of  some  species  of  mice,  so  long  as  they 
are  helpless,  while  the  Instinct  seems  to  be  lost 
when  they  are  old  enough  to  care  for  themselves  in 
other  ways.  Before  their  eyes  are  open,  they  will 
go  through  all  the  contortions  of  dying  animals,  and 
finally  put  on  the  perfect  semblance  of  death. 
When  we  consider  the  low  rank  of  the  Opossum,  the 
most  successful  counterfeiter  of  death  among  adult 
vertebrates,  and  also  that  this  device  is  most  com- 
mon among  insects,  and  is  also  found  among  the 
helpless  young  of  some  animals,  we  shall  see  that 
this  apparent  cunning  and  contrivance  are  sim- 
ply capabilities  given  to  compensate  for  the  want  of 
other  powers,  and  that  they  are  the  result  of  spon- 


Climatic  Change.  119 

taneous  impulse,  saving  the  animal,  he  knows  not 
how. 

There  are  many  instinctive  powers  ascribed  to 
animals  the  existence  of  which  is  not  certainly  es- 
tablished— as  the  power  of  perceiving  the  change  of 
weather.  Some  animals  may  possess  this  power  as 
an  Instinct,  but  there  is  need  of  more  observation 
on  the  point,  before  it  can  be  accepted  as  estab- 
lished. Undoubtedly  they  are  influenced  by  cli- 
matic change,  as  men  are,  and  many  of  them  proba- 
bly to  a much  greater  degree ; but  a careful  exam- 
ination may  show  that  many  acts  now  referred  to 
Instinct, are  simply  the  result  of  physical  exhilaration 
or  depression,  through  climatic  influence,  and  that 
these  are  therefore  reflex,  rather  than  instinctive, 
acts.  Certain  it  is,  that  Instinct  is  not  a perfect 
guide  in  reference  to  climatic  change ; for  many  an- 
imals perish  every  year  because  heat  or  cold,  or 
moisture  or  drought,  are  more  severe  than  their  In- 
stinct had  provided  for.  Under  the  impulse  of  the 
Instinct  of  migration,  birds  often  come  north  in 
spring  to  perish  by  storms  of  snow  and  cold,  which 
would  not  happen  if  Instinct  were  the  perfect  weath- 
er prophet  which  it  sometimes  has  the  credit  of 
being. 

It  is  supposed  by  some,  that  the  severity  of  the 
coming  winter  can  be  predicted  from  the  character 
of  the  walls  of  the  houses  which  the  Muskrats  build. 
After  carefully  observing  the  work  of  these  ani- 
mals for  more  than  twenty-five  years,  and  compar- 
ing the  predictions  with  the  results,  I cannot  be- 
lieve that  the  Muskrat  knows  any  thing,  beforehand, 


120 


histmct. 


of  the  severity  of  the  winter  or  the  height  of  the 
coming  freshets.  He  certainly  makes  serious  blun- 
ders. He  sometimes  builds  his  house  where  the 
water  leaves  it  in  winter  and  the  frost  renders  it 
useless.  And,  again,  he  builds  it  where  the  freshets 
overflow  it  and  compel  him  to  shift  for  himself 
among  the  ice  and  water.  The  Muskrat  provides 
for  winter  as  many  other  animals  do,  but  the  un- 
certainty of  the  season  is  a condition  which  seems 
to  be  an  important  element  that  he  has  to  contend 
with  in  his  struggle  for  existence.  The  thickness 
of  the  walls  of  his  house,  according  to  which  the 
severity  of  winters  is  predicted,  seems  to  depend 
upon  the  condition  of  the  weather  while  the  house 
is  building,  rather  than  upon  any  foresight  of  its 
builder  as  to  the  coming  winter.  As  the  Muskrat 
cannot  control  the  height  of  the  water,  as  does  his 
cousin  the  Beaver,  he  is  often  compelled  to  add  to 
his  house  as  the  water  rises  and  then  again  as  it  re- 
treats, while  he  makes  his  canals  and  approaches 
deeper.  He  is  often  kept  at  work  upon  his  house 
till  winter  closes  in.  What  affects  one  lodge  is  like- 
ly to  affect  all  more  or  less,  in  the  same  region  ; 
and  thus  in  meeting  the  exigencies  of  the  case,  from 
day  to  day,  these  animals  have  had  credit  for  a fore- 
sight which  they  do  not  possess. 

The  safety  of  all  species  is  that  their  Instinct 
provides  for  the  average  season, — our  protection 
against  many  animals,  that  is,  against  their  too  abun- 
dant increase,  is  that  their  Instinct  fails  to  make 
provision  against  the  extremes  of  seasons.  When 
certain  insects  become  abundant,  it  often  happens 


The  Partridge, 


I2I 


that  a single  season  rids  us  of  the  pest  because  their 
Instinct  fails  to  meet  the  exigency  of  the  case. 

The  common  Partridge,  or  Ruffed  Grouse  of  our 
forests,  knows  how  to  protect  itself  from  severe 
winter  weather  by  plunging  beneath  the  light  snow. 
Its  Instinct  leads  it  to  take  advantage  of  the  non-con- 
ducting power  of  the  snow  to  sleep  in  warmth  and 
comfort, while  the  storm  is  raging  above.  This  act 
is  beautiful  in  its  relation  to  the  welfare  of  the  bird, 
and  shows  that  Instinct  is  here  wiser  in  its  action 
than  the  Intelligence  of  some  men,  who  perish  from 
cold  when  they  might  protect  themselves  perfectly 
with  a covering  of  snow.  But  while  the  Instinct  of 
the  Partridge  teaches  her  to  protect  herself  from 
the  storm  by  plunging  beneath  the  snow,  it  does 
not  teach  her  that  the  falling  snow  may  turn  to 
rain  and  be  succeeded  by  cold ; which  sometimes 
happens,  so  that  the  poor  bird  is  imprisoned  by  the 
hard  crust,  to  die  of  hunger  or  be  dug  out  by  some 
prowling  fox  that  thus  finds  a Partridge  ready  trap- 
ped for  him.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  find  the  evi- 
dence of  such  mistakes  of  Instinct,  or  want  of  in- 
stinctive foresight,  in  our  New  England  forests  late 
in  winter.  The  Instinct  of  the  bird  which  leads 
her  to  seek  protection  in  the  snow,  is  upon  the 
whole, good.  It  contributes  to  the  comfort  and  safe- 
ty of  the  species,  while  it  sometimes  works  injury  to 
the  individual  bird.  This  is  another  example  of 
the  great  law  of  nature,  that  there  shall  be  a con- 
stant struggle  for  existence — that  no  individual  of 
any  species,  can  be  perfectly  protected  against  acci- 
dents and  early  death  ; and  that  Instinct  itself, 
6 


122 


Instinct, 


which  is  sometimes  called  “ unerring,”  may  be  the 
means  of  destroying  its  possessor,  by  the  very  agen- 
cies which  it  calls  into  play  to  preserve  him. 

The  power  of  some  animals  to  find  their  homes 
when  carried  from  them  under  such  conditions  that 
they  cannot  observe,  and  even  to  take  a straight 
course  towards  them,  is  generally  acknowledged. 
It  is  contended  by  some  that  the  Carrier  Pigeon  is 
guided  by  sight,  while  others  deny  it.  While  we 
believe  some  animals  have  this  instinctive  power,  it 
is  difficult  to  determine  the  facts  in  the  case  by  ob- 
servation. And  if  established,  they  would  be  only 
one  more  illustration  of  the  principle  already  consid- 
ered, that  animals  have,  as  an  original  gift,  all 
those  powers  needed  for  their  mode  of  life. 

The  many  points  in  regard  to  which  we  are  still 
in  doubt  respecting  the  habits  of  our  most  common 
animals,  show  that  we  still  have  need  of  Hubers  and 
Wilsons  to  study  every  species.  Not  only  do  our 
story  books,  but  our  school  books,  abound  in  state- 
ments that  nature  refuses  to  endorse.  And  learned 
writers  often  trust  to  such  unreliable  statements,  or 
ignore  the  facts  that  contradict  some  favorite  defi- 
nition or  theory.  Fortunately  for  our  purpose, 
there  are  examples  enough  to  illustrate  every  point 
we  wish  to  make,  that  are  repeated  from  year  to 
year,  so  that  they  can  be  studied  by  every  careful 
observer. 

In  the  manifestations  of  Instinct  last  considered 
we  see  evident  relation  to  the  welfare  of  the  indi- 
vidual or  the  species  to  which  it  belongs.  These 
Instinctive  powers  give  such  ability  to  act  as  expe- 


Necessity  of  Observation. 


123 


rience  might  be  supposed  to  give ; but  the  ability 
being  needed  before  it  could  be  gained  from  expe- 
rience, it  appears  as  part  of  that  outfit  with  which 
the  animal  is  sent  into  the  world.  But  the  princi- 
ples of  action  in  many  of  these  cases,  are  of  such  a 
nature  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  organization  of 
the  animal  to  suggest  their  existence.  We  learn 
of  their  existence  only  by  observation.  There  is 
nothing  in  the  structure  of  birds  to  indicate  to  us 
with  any  certainty  where  they  will  build,  or  the 
form  of  their  nests.  We  know  that  the  fowl  gives 
the  cry  of  danger  at  the  sight  of  the  hawk,  and  that 
its  young  seek  cover  at  the  alarm,  because  we  have 
seen  the  frightened  brood  thus  guided  by  Instinct. 
We  readily  see  the  wisdom  of  the  thing,  but  it  is 
impossible  to  learn  from  the  structure  of  the  ani- 
mal that  it  will  perform  these  particular  acts,  as  we 
could  infer  from  the  talon  and  beak  of  a new  spe- 
cies of  hawk  that  it  would  live  on  flesh,  or  from  the 
structure  of  the  web-foot  that  its  possessor  would 
seek  the  water. 

Instincts  that  minister  directly  to  the  appetites, 
are  common  to  all  animals  as  an  absolute  necessity 
to  them.  They  must  act  promptly,  or  individuals 
must  perish,  until  the  species  disappears. 

Instincts  that  protect  animals  from  their  most 
fatal  enemies  are  common  to  many  species,  ready 
to  spring  into  action  the  instant  the  enemy  is  per- 
ceived, even  for  the  first  time.  And  such  an  In- 
stinct seems  to  be  almost  as  essential  to  the  preser- 
vation of  some  species,  as  are  the  Instincts  that 
minister  to  the  appetites. 


124 


Instinct. 


It  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  refer  in  this  con- 
nection, to  the  bearing  of  some  of  the  facts  thus  far 
considered  on  the  origin  of  these  powers  which  an- 
imals possess,  as  well  as  upon  the  origin  of  the  spe- 
cies themselves. 

If  we  adopt  the  theory  of  transmitted  skill 
gained  through  the  experience  of  previous  genera- 
tions, which  has  much  that  is  plausible  in  its  favor, 
we  are  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  there  have 
been  ancestors  of  our  wild  animals  of  very  great 
ingenuity  in  devising  and  executing  plans,  and  that 
these  ingenious  beings  have  appeared  in  great  num- 
bers among  the  insects ; and  we  are  also  troubled 
to  see  how  the  species,  in  many  cases,  continued 
upon  the  earth  till  these  ingenious  beings  appeared 
whose  wisdom  and  contrivance,  inherited  by  their 
descendants,  seem  now  absolutely  essential  for  the 
continuance  of  the  species  from  one  generation  to 
another — in  many  cases,  for  their  continuance  for  a 
single  year. 

If  we  appeal  to  Natural  Selection,  as  is  now  fre- 
quently done,  we  have  indeed  a powerful  agency 
to  work  with  ; but  will  it  do  the  work  we  need  to 
have  done?  Natural  Selection,  granting  all  that  is 
claimed  by  those  who  invoke  its  aid  for  the  solution 
of  all  problems  in  regard  to  the  habits  and  struc- 
ture that  characterize  species  of  animals, — Natural 
Selection  is  simply  “ the  preserving  of  the  fittest!'  It 
does  not  give  a characteristic  to  any  animal,  but  sim- 
ply preserves  him  through  the  agency  of  some  charac- 
teristic which  he  already  possesses.  Natural  Selec- 
tion does  not  give  to  the  animal  the  power  to  hi- 


Hibernation. 


125 


bernate,  for  instance ; but  the  most  it  can  do,  is  to 
preserve  those  animals  that  already  have  this  pow- 
er in  the  greatest  perfection.  But  in  the  conditions 
of  hibernation  we  find  an  exceedingly  complicated 
machinery  for  the  preservation  of  animal  life,  vary- 
ing much  according  to  the  species.  There  is  a 
chain  of  agencies  of  which  Instinct  is  only  one  link. 
Hibernating  animals  of  the  higher  rank,  feed  upon 
food  that  is  abundant  in  the  autumn.  Their  appe- 
tite is  then  voracious,  and  fat  accumulates  to  an  un- 
wonted degree.  So  far.  Instinct  has  no  part  in  the 
work  except  in  the  procuring  of  food.  But  now  it 
comes  in  as  chief  actor,  to  impel  and  guide  the  ani- 
mal in  preparing  a nest  or  retreat  for  his  winter’s 
sleep.  When  this  is  done,  function  takes  up  the 
entire  work  again,  lessens  the  rate  of  breathing  and 
lowers  the  whole  vital  activity,  so  that  the  animal 
lives  for  months  without  eating,  and  yet  comes  out 
in  good  condition  when  nature  has  once  more 
spread  a table  for  him.  In  the  case  of  other  ani- 
mals, especially  in  the  case  of  some  reptiles  and  in- 
sects, there  is  complete  torpor.  But  in  every  case 
we  see  these  agencies.  Instinct  and  Function,  work- 
ing together,  or  rather  working  in  succession,  each 
supplementing  the  other. 

It  may  be  said  that  cold  has  a tendency  to 
lower  vitality,  and  so  by  degrees  these  functional 
changes  are  produced  and  the  animal,  or  more  strict- 
ly the  species,  forms  a habit  which  we  call  Instinct 
But  if  we  go  to  certain  hot  countries  where  great  heat 
and  drought  are  combined,  we  find  animals  secre- 
ting themselves  by  Instinct  and  becoming  torpid  in 


126 


Instinct. 


summer,  as  they  do  with  us  in  winter.  The  exact 
counterpart  of  hibernation  is  there  repeated  under 
entirely  different  conditions.  Instinct  is  as  perfect 
in  its  work  there  as  here.  Its  object  in  both  coun- 
tries is  to  aid  in  saving  the  animal  when  his  food 
fails  and  the  extremes  of  climate  are  too  severe  for 
him.  It  does  its  work  well ; but  it  would  utterly  fail 
in  both  hot  and  cold  countries,  if  the  functions  of 
the  animals  did  not  supplement  it  in  producing 
those  remarkable  changes  in  vital  activity,  render- 
ing multitudes  of  animals  here  torpid  in  winter,  and 
there  in  summer.  Instinct  has  not  only  to  meet 
these  different  conditions,  but  it  must  vary  in  both 
places,  in  many  ways,  to  meet  the  wants  of  different 
species  of  animals.  And  in  this  whole  work  of  hi- 
bernation,— if  it  be  proper  to  apply  this  term  to  the 
change  that  occurs  in  hot  countries, — in  all  this 
work  of  hibernation,  which  is  a wonder  in  itself,  we 
find  Instinct  true  to  its  character  as  thus  far  traced, 
as  an  agency  spontaneous  in  its  action  supplement- 
ing the  physiological  agencies,  to  preserve  the  indi- 
vidual and  species. 

If  now  we  claim  that  all  these  hibernating  ani- 
mals are  what  they  are  because  Natural  Selection 
has  been  going  on  from  age  to  age  until  only  those 
are  left  that  Structure,  Function  and  Instinct  all 
combining,  have  adapted  to  the  conditions  of  the 
world  in  the  northern  regions  and  under  the  equator, 
the  question  still  returns.  How  were  the  species  pre- 
served till  these  changes  in  action  were  all  brought 
into  harmony  with  each  other  and  with  the  world 
without — until  adaptations  were  secured  that  sin- 


Natural  Selection, 


127 

gly  or  in  a long  series,  seem  now  essential  to  the  very 
existence  of  the  species  ? 

Another  question  also  arises ; how  were  the 
changes  which  have  resulted  in  these  complex  adap- 
tations inaugurated  ? If  we  refer  all  these  results 
to  accidental  changes  accumulating  in  the  right  di- 
rection, we  confess  it  would  be  as  easy  for  us  to  be- 
lieve that  the  words  of  a book  might  be  formed  in 
order  by  a series  of  accidental  positions  of  type 
thrown  from  a box.  If  we  refer  any  of  these  nice 
adjustments  to  the  comprehension  and  contrivance 
of  animals  in  the  first  instance,  then  we  are  called 
upon  to  recognize  in  the  ancestors  of  the  present 
races  a power  of  comprehension  which  these  races 
do  not  now  possess — a comprehension  equalling 
that  power  in  the  best  of  the  human  species ; for 
no  man  can  claim  that  he  could  better  adjust  these 
activities  of  the  animal  with  the  forces  of  the  inor- 
ganic world,  than  they  are  now  adjusted.  And 
these  adjustments  were  complete  as  they  now  are 
before  men  could  understand  the  work  even. 

And  it  must  constantly  be  borne  in  mind  that 
to  explain  these  results  through  the  agency  of  Nat- 
ural Selection,  we  must  see  how  it  could  secure  not 
only  all  the  difference  of  Instinct  that  there  is  in  the 
world,  by  the  accumulation  of  changes  all  working 
out  a specific  result,  and  the  difference  of  form  and 
internal  structure  by  like  accumulated  changes ; 
but  we  must  see  how  it  can  secure  all  of  these  at 
the  same  time^  so  as  to  produce  the  specific  forms 
in  their  wonderful  variety  and  the  specific  instincts 
in  their  complexity,  and  yet  bring  structure,  func- 


128 


Instinct, 


tion  and  Instinct  to  harmonize  in  every  one  of  the 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  species, — and  each  indi- 
vidual, through  these  combined  agencies,  into  the 
best  relations  with  the  world  in  which  it  lives. 

In  addition  to  this,  before  we  can  accept  Natur- 
al Selection  as  the  chief  agency  in  the  production 
of  species,  we  must  see  how  all  the  species  were 
kept  in  existence  while  those  slow  changes  were 
taking  place  which  now  give  the  species  character 
and  upon  which  their  existence  seems  to  depend. 
The  explanations  of  the  best  masters,  after  giving 
them  the  benefit  of  every  fact  they  present,  leave 
many,  perplexing  difficulties,  in  regard  to  such  re- 
lationships as  we  have  already  referred  to.  The 
problem  will  become  more  difficult  as  we  advance. 
Some  of  its  difficulties  are  well  illustrated  by  the 
examples  under  the  next  topic, — 

The  Relation  of  Instinct  to  special  structure  and 
fuyiction. 

If  we  accept  Natural  Selection  as  the  means  of 
securing  the  special  adaptations  of  instincts  and  in- 
struments which  we  see  among  animals,  we  must 
grant  that  in  every  case,  there  was  at  the  beginning, 
an  instrument  and  an  instinct  to  use  it  effectively ; 
because  an  instrument  without  the  corresponding 
instinct  would  be  of  no  advantage  to  the  animal, 
but  a dg^mage.  Where  we  find  special  structures 
or  special  functions  and  corresponding  instincts,  we 
must  grant  the  co-existence  of  both  and  the  con- 
joined action  of  both,  before  Natural  Selection 
could  possibly  have  any  influence  to  preserve  either 


The  Rattle-Snake. 


I2g 

of  them  in  the  species,  or  the  species  themselves 
through  their  action. 

Without  attempting,  at  this  point,  to  discuss  the 
questions  that  might  arise  as  to  the  origin  of  the 
conjoined  structure,  function  and  Instinct,  we  pro- 
ceed to  call  attention  to  a few  facts  that  illustrate 
the  subject,  and  at  least  show  more  fully  than  has 
thus  far  been  done,  the  diversity  of  action  of  the 
instinctive  principle,  and  also  how  Instinct  supple- 
ments structure  and  function  of  organs,  in  higher 
planes  of  action  than  the  mere  securing  of  food. 

We  take  as  our  first  illustration  that  dreaded 
reptile  the  Rattle-snake.  We  here  find,  first,  the 
grooved  or  perforated  fang, — its  point  sharpened 
like  a chisel,  on  the  most  approved  principles.  This 
instrument  is  folded  away  when  not  in  use,  but  un- 
sheathed and  in  position  the  instant  it  is  needed. 
As  the  tooth  grew,  all  the  straps  and  springs  need- 
ful for  its  most  effective  use  grew  with  it.  At  its 
base  grows  a gland  secreting  a deadly  poison ; and 
the  opening  of  that  gland  is  through  the  hollow 
tooth.  When  the  tooth  makes  its  wound,  the  same 
motion  that  drives  it  home,  injects  the  poison.  The 
whole  machinery  is  perfect.  Structure  and  function 
both  agree  in  a complicated  but  perfect  manner. 
The  result  of  their  combined  action,  is  death  to  the 
victim.  Now  comes  in  the  third  element  which  we 
call  Instinct,  guiding  the  voluntary  action  of  the 
snake.  The  tooth  and  the  poison  would  have  no 
terror  for  us,  were  it  not  that  the  snake  will  strike 
and  do  it  effectively  without  instruction ! 

But  the  rattle  of  this  reptile  is  another  peculiar 
6* 


130 


Instinct. 


contrivance  related  to  its  Instinct.  The  rattle  gives 
a note  of  warning  to  animals.  It  is  of  no  apparent 
use  to  the  snake,  as  it  ought  to  be  according  to  the 
Natural  Selection  theory  ; but,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
is  likely  to  bring  death  to  its  possessor  by  giving 
notice  to  its  enemies  of  his  presence.  If  the  rattle 
is  beneficial  to  the  snake,  it  appears  when  least  need- 
ed, for  when  the  snake  is  young  and  most  likely  to 
be  injured  by  its  enemies,  it  has  no  rattle.  The 
rattles  grow  as  the  fangs  grow,  that  make  him  dan- 
gerous to  other  animals  and  to  man.  We  find  this 
instrument  of  warning  and  the  Instinct  to  use  it 
given  to  this  snake  that,  on  account  of  its  great 
numbers  and  wide  distribution,  would  be  exceeding- 
ly dangerous  without  them. 

In  this  reptile  then  we  have  the  perforated  tooth 
with  all  its  complicated  adjustments,  the  deadly 
poison  to  accompany  it,  the  rattle  to  give  warning 
as  he  becomes  dangerous  to  other  animals,  and  an 
Instinct  to  bring  into  effective  action  all  these  spe- 
cial structures  and  functions. 

In  the  Bee  and  Wasp  and  Hornet,  we  have  the 
instrument  for  defence,  the  poisonous  secretion  and 
the  Instinct  to  render  them  effective.  But  in  the 
Honey-bee,  we  have  much  more  than  these  provis- 
ions for  defence.  Its  Instinct  leads  it  to  store  hon- 
ey for  use  in  winter.  We  pass  now  the  complicated 
but  special  apparatus  that  enables  the  Bee  to  gather 
the  honey,  to  consider  the  conditions  that  enable 
her  to  store  it.  After  being  gorged  with  honey, 
she  secretes  scales  of  wax  under  the  rings  of  the 
body.  This  substance,  essential  to  the  economy  of 


Bees — Wasps — Hornets.  1 3 1 

the  bee-hive,  is  not  produced  by  any  work  of  In- 
stinct but  by  a peculiar  function  of  the  body 
Those  scales  of  wax  the  Bee  softens,  undoubtedly, 
by  another  peculiar  secretion ; and  then  fashions 
them  into  a cell  that  has  challenged  the  admiration 
of  the  world. 

Let  us  trace  this  process  through.  There  is  an 
Instinct  for  gathering  honey  and,  answering  to  it, 
an  instrument  just  fitted  for  drawing  it  up  from  the 
nectaries  of  flowers.  There  is  also  a sack  for  hold- 
ing it  and  for  producing  certain  changes  in  it. 
There  is  an  Instinct  for  storing  this  honey  and  a 
substance  secreted  that  can  be  molded  into  cells  to 
hold  it.  There  are  instruments  given  for  using  the 
substance  to  the  best  possible  advantage,  and  In- 
stinct to  guide  in  the  best  use  of  both  instruments 
and  the  substance.  Instinct  comes  in  at  the  proper 
place  to  link  all  these  agencies  together.  Let  a 
single  link  be  wanting  and  all  other  parts  of  the 
chain  are  useless  as  a means  of  preserving  the  spe- 
cies. And  complicated  as  this  whole  process  is,  it  is 
only  a part  of  the  connected  series  of  functional  and 
instinctive  adjustments  absolutely  essential  to  Hon- 
ey-bee life,  as  the  species  now  exists. 

Among  the  Wasps  and  Hornets  that  build  nests 
and  cells  of  woody  fibre,  we  might  trace  out  the  re- 
lation of  Instinct  to  structure  and  function,  showing 
results  almost  as  curious  as  those  already  consider- 
ed. In  fact,  instances  almost  without  number  can 
be  given  in  every  department  of  the  animal  king- 
dom where  structure  and  function,  either  separately 
or  combined,  are  joined  with  an  Instinct  that  gives 


132 


Instinct, 


them  their  whole  value  in  securing  the  welfare  of 
their  possessor. 

Among  spiders  we  find,  perhaps,  the  best  il- 
lustrations of  the  great  diversity  of  the  results  pro- 
duced by  the  joint  action  of  these  three  agencies, 
in  animals  very  nearly  allied.  A whole  lecture 
might  be  given  in  showing  the  varied  uses  to  which 
different  species  of  spiders  put  this  web-making  se- 
cretion which  is  common  to  nearly  the  whole  spider 
tribe.  We  have  webs  of  a multitude  of  forms — 
fine  threads,  as  treacherous  snares — curious  nests 
lined  with  satin,  and  homes  beneath  the  water ; be- 
sides sacks  and  covers,  from  the  thinness  of  gauze 
to  the  thickness  of  paper,  to  protect  their  eggs  and 
young.  The  problem  does  not  seem  to  be  ; In  how 
few  ways  can  Instinct  avail  itself  of  function  to  pro- 
vide for  the  family  of  spiders  ? but  rather.  In  how 
great  a multiplicity  of  methods  ? — as  though  diver- 
sity were  the  object  aimed  at ; and  yet  each  meth- 
od would  challenge  our  admiration,  if  all  spiders  in 
the  world  were  found  using  that  alone. 

In  this  connection  we  cannot  fail  to  notice  the 
relation  of  Instinct  to  form  and  color. 

It  is  well  known  that  many  wild  animals  corres- 
pond in  color  very  closely  to  the  coloring  of  the 
earth  and  herbage  where  they  live.  Among  the 
higher  animals,  especially  among  birds,  every  care- 
ful observer  has  noticed  that  many  of  them  seek 
those  places  where  their  colors  will  best  harmonize 
with  the  surrounding  objects.  The  Grouse,  already 
referred  to,  so  closely  resembles  in  color  the  with- 


Color  and  Form, 


133 


ered  leaves  among  which  she  places  her  nest,  that 
the  keenest  eye  seldom  discovers  her.  Though  one 
of  the  wildest  of  birds,  she  settles  herself  upon  the 
nest  and  seems  to  trust  in  the  deceiving  power  of 
her  feathers,  and  so  remains  quiet  until  the  foot  of 
the  intruder  is  almost  upon  her. 

The  Ptarmigan  Grouse  of  Greenland  and  the 
Sage-hen  of  our  Rocky  Mountains  are  both  beauti- 
ful examples  of  what  the  united  action  of  color  and 
Instinct  can  do  to  protect  the  bird.  I have  fre- 
quently seen  both  of  these  birds  light,  and  yet  have 
been  entirely  unable  to  distinguish  them  from  the 
surrounding  vegetation  until  some  movement  of 
the  bird  aided  the  eye.  There  is  also  change  of 
color  from  summer  to  winter  and  the  instincts  of 
the  animal  are  in  harmony  with  these  changes  for 
its  welfare. 

But  it  is  among  insects  that  this  correlation 
between  form  and  color  and  Instinct,  is  most  readi- 
ly observed  and  most  wonderful.  There  are  insects 
that  simulate  leaves  so  closely  that  they  deceive 
careful  observers.  Mr.  Wallace  gives  an  interesting 
account*  of  insects  that  imitate,  in  their  structure 
and  color,  decaying  and  diseased  leaves.  And  In- 
stinct here  aids  in  the  work  of  deception  ; for  these 
insects  fasten  themselves  upon  limbs  in  such  places 
and  in  such  positions  as  withered  leaves  would  nat- 
urally be  found  in.  A spidert  is  also  found,  accord- 
ing to  the  same  author,  that  resembles  a bud  in 
appearance,  and  his  natural  place  of  concealment  is 


* “Natural  Selection,”  pp.  59-61. 


f Ib.  p.  99. 


134 


histinct. 


in  the  axil  of  a leaf,  just  where  a bud  would  be 
found. 

But  every  observer  of  our  own  insects  has  seen 
among  them  examples  of  this  correlation  of  In- 
stinct with  form  and  color.  Some  of  our  caterpil- 
lars have  the  color  and  form  of  short  sticks.  They, 
in  case  of  danger,  fasten  themselves  upon  a limb 
and  extend  the  body  so  that  men  and  birds  are 
both  deceived  ; so  completely  do  color,  form  and 
position  mimic  a dry  stub  upon  the  bush.  The  cu- 
rious thing  is,  no  matter  now  how  it  has  been  se- 
cured, that  Instinct  should  come  in  among  butter- 
flies, spiders,  caterpillars  and  hosts  of  other  animals 
to  complete  the  work  of  deception,  which  is  begun 
by  color  and  form,  simulating  the  common  appear- 
ance of  leaves  in  all  their  changes  and  flowers  and 
buds  and  sticks. 

In  every  step  that  we  have  taken  in  this  investi- 
gation, we  have  found  Instinct  becoming  a part  of 
a more  complex  system  of  agencies,  but  still  filling 
a place  which  function  of  organs  alone  could  not 
possibly  fill — securing  results  that  might  be  obtain- 
ed through  experience  and  instruction  by  some  an- 
imals if  there  were  any  way  to  provide  for  the  con- 
tinuance of  the  race  of  animals  until  experience 
could  be  gained.  But  in  the  case  of  those  animals 
that  could  possibly  learn  by  experience,  something 
must  go  before  it.  There  must  be  impulse  and  so 
much  of  guidance  as  to  preserve  the  animal  till  ex- 
perience can  come  to  his  rescue.  But  with  many 
animals  knowledge  from  experience  is  impossible, 


Seventeen-year  Locust. 


135 


because  there  is  occasion  for  performing  the  most 
important  acts  only  once  in  a lifetime,  and  that  too 
under  such  conditions  as  to  make  it  impossible  that 
the  actors  should  learn  from  others.  In  such  cases 
we  find  Instinct  ever  ready  to  do  its  work — a work 
sometimes  so  complex  as  to  require  careful  study 
on  the  part  of  man  to  understand  it.  This  point 
can  perhaps  be  made  plain  by  a single  illustration. 
The  Cicada  or  Seventeen-year  Locust  is  so  called 
because  it  appears  only  once  in  seventeen  years. 
The  insects  deposit  their  eggs  in  the  limbs  of  trees 
and  die.  The  young  grubs  find  their  way  to  the 
earth  and  there  mine  in  the  dark  for  seventeen 
years,  when  they  come  forth  for  their  few  days  of 
life  in  the  sunlight.  When  they  come  out  they 
are  to  deposit  their  eggs  and  do  all  the  work  which 
their  ancestors  did  seventeen  years  before.  They 
do  the  work  but  once  in  a lifetime,  but  every  move- 
ment goes  on  in  perfect  order,  as  though  experience 
and  instruction  both  had  done  their  perfect  work 
on  beings  capable  of  comprehension.  They  copy 
exactly  the  work  done  by  their  ancestors  seventeen 
years  before,  when  they  themselves  existed  only  in 
the  eggs. 

We  have  thus  far  found  Instinct  as  meeting  the 
demands  of  appetite — as  protecting  its  possessor 
from  special  enemies,  and  as  taking  its  place,  with 
color  and  form  and  function,  as  a higher  agency  for 
preserving  the  life  of  the  individual  and  the  species. 
We  have  found  nothing  yet  to  indicate  that  it  is  an 
entity,  a thing  by  itself,  as  it  is  often  represented  to 
be, — a possession  which  animals  have  in  common. 


136 


Instinct, 


It  seems  rather  to  consist  of  a summation  of  spon- 
taneous activities  which  animals  possess  in  different 
measure  and  of  different  kinds,  according  to  the 
sphere  they  are  to  occupy. 


LECTURE  VI. 


FNSTINCT  FOR  COMMUNITIES  OF  ANIMALS. — ITS 
RELATION  TO  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  NATURAL  SE- 
LECTION. 

Illustrations  of  the  Community  System. — The  Cow-bird, — Three  khuis 
belonging  to  the  same  species. — Necessity  for  slaves  among  Ants . — 
The  brood  or  annual  flock. — Permanent  organization. — Leaders. — 
Sentinels. — Pelicans  of  Utah  Lake. — The  Beaver. — Morgan's 
Work. — The  Rank  of  the  Beaver. — The  Muskrat. — Variation  of 
Instinct  necessary. — Complexity  of  work  no  proof  of  Intelligence. — 
Consideration  of  theories. — Accumulated  work  of  Intelligence. — In- 
stinct like  ity  in  ejfect. — The  Honey-bee. — Bumble-bees  and  Wasps. — 
Slave-Ants. — Darwin's  Explanation. — Difficulties. — Natural  Se- 
lection and  Variation  not  suflicient. — Wallace  on  Natural  Selec- 
tion applied  to  man. 


In  almost  every  manifestation  of  Instinct  thus  far 
introduced,  the  act  has  been  one  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  individual  or  species,  but  such  as  the  in- 
dividual could  perform  for  itself.  A single  pair  at 
most,  caring  for  their  young,  in  all  their  instinctive 
acts  would  represent  not  only  so  many  individuals 
but  the  species  as  a whole. 

We  began,  however,  to  see  the  introduction  of 
another  principle,  when  we  found  adults  uniting  in 
action  to  aid  each  other;  one  species  of  birds  even 
calling  to  their  aid  others,  of  different  species,  against 
a common  enemy.  And  when  we  found  a system 
of  instinctive  acts,  by  which  alarm-notes  are  sounded 


138 


Instinct, 


by  birds  for  the  benefit  of  their  fellows,  and  safety 
thus  secured  to  the  flock,  we  began  to  see  the 
community  system,  which  prevails  extensively  in 
the  animal  kingdom  and  gives  rise  to  very  distinct 
and  complex  manifestations  of  Instinct. 

When  the  community  system  becomes  promi- 
nent, a single  animal,  or  a single  pair,  often  be- 
comes a very  imperfect  representative  of  the  spe- 
cies, if  we  wish  to  study  the  whole  work  of  Instinct. 
Individuality  is  lost  in  the  machinery  of  the  com- 
munity. And  so  far  does  this  system  prevail  among 
some  species,  that  a single  male  and  female  cannot 
possibly  care  for  their  young.  In  more  than  one 
case  the  species  could  not  possibly  exist  without  the 
aid  of  individuals  from  other  species.  In  such  cases, 
the  dependent  species  have  an  Instinct  to  secure 
the  services  of  other  laborers  and  thus  supplement 
their  own  defects. 

In  the  case  of  the  Cow-bird,  already  referred  to, 
the  species  would  perish  were  it  not  for  the  work 
of  other  birds  in  hatching  and  feeding  the  young 
Cow-bird.  But  so  far  as  we  can  judge,  this  defect- 
ive care  of  the  Cow-bird  for  her  offspring  arises  en- 
tirely from  the  action  of  its  Instinct, — defective  ac- 
tion when  taken  by  itself,  but  effective  when  we 
consider  its  relation  to  the  Instinct  of  other  birds 
whose  work  it  secures.  We  see  nothing  in  the  or- 
ganization of  the  bird  to  prevent  it  from  nesting 
and  rearing  its  brood  like  other  birds.  But  lower 
in  the  scale  of  being,  we  find  three  kinds  of  animals 
belonging  to  the  same  species — the  males,  females 
and  neuters — all  needful  for  carrying  on  the  work 


Flocks, 


139 


of  life.  And  in  some  communities  of  Ants,  the  in 
dividuals  of  another  species  are  needed  to  make  the 
system  perfect.  That  is,  the  first  species  could  not 
exist  at  all  were  it  not  that  their  Instinct  enables 
them  to  supplement  their  own  defects  by  making 
slaves  of  individuals  from  other  species  able  to  do 
their  work  for  them.  We  announced  in  the  begin- 
ning of  these  lectures  that  we  should  make  no  at- 
tempt to  collect  and  rehearse  the  wonders  of  In- 
stinct. Our  object  is  to  bring  up  for  consideration 
those  examples  of  instinctive  action  known  to  every 
Naturalist,  or  such  as  all  persons  may  see  if  they 
choose  to.  We  are  therefore  compelled  to  refer 
briefly  to  points  that  might  be  illustrated  by  many 
examples. 

There  are  among  animals  certain  instincts  that 
either  grow  out  of  the  relation  of  the  sexes  or  are 
indirectly  connected  with  it.  Thus  we  have  the 
flock  or  brood  for  a single  season,  or  so  long  as  the 
young  need  the  parents’  care.  This  Instinct  is  an 
entirely  different  thing  from  that  which  prevails  in 
the  community  proper,  which  ministers  to  the  good 
both  of  the  individual  and  of  the  species,  not 
through  any  relation  of  the  sexes  or  of  parents  to 
their  young  necessarily,  but  by  the  organization  of 
a complex  community  of  adults  that  may  have  no 
relationship  to  each  other  except  that  they  belong 
to  the  same  species.  The  simplest  form  of  such 
communities  is  found  among  common  birds  and 
beasts  that  associate  in  flocks.  These,  as  Sheep, 
Antelopes,  Crows  and  Pigeons,  might  do  very  well 
as  individuals  ; and  a single  pair  can,  not  only,  care 


140 


Instinct. 


for  their  young  without  aid  from  others,  but  at  the 
time  of  rearing  young,  the  flock  is  generally  broken 
up,  each  pair  caring  for  its  own.  It  is  after  the 
breeding  season  is  over  and  the  young  are  able  to 
shift  for  themselves,  that  flocks  and  herds  are  form- 
ed among  many  of  the  social  birds  and  beasts. 
This  may,  in  some  cases,  be  done  simply  from  love 
of  society.  Here  the  work  of  Instinct  seems  to  be 
simply  to  increase  enjoyment.  But  in  very  many 
cases,  perhaps  ultimately  in  all,  there  is  a certain 
organization  of  the  flock;  and  that  organization 
is  made  in  some  w'ay  subservient  to  the  welfare  of 
the  individuals,  as  such.  The  most  simple  case  of 
united  action,  is  in  following  a leader.  There  seems 
to  be,  in  flocks  of  animals  of  various  kinds,  some  in- 
dividual that  leads  either  in  migration  or  in  de- 
fence. This  leader  is  generally  the  most  powerful 
male  of  the  flock.  But  another  advantage  to  the 
individual,  from  the  flock  organization,  is  seen  in 
the  selection  of  sentinels,  that  are  posted  to  give 
warning,  while  the  others  feed.  Among  common 
fowls,  each  one  is  ready  to  give  warning  of  danger ; 
but  among  many  wild  animals  there  is  often  co5p- 
eration  according  to  a system,  and  a very  excellent 
system  too.  Crows  and  Pigeons  may  be  seen  watch- 
ing upon  the  trees,  while  their  fellows  feed  in  the 
meadow.  At  the  approach  of  danger,  these  senti- 
nels raise  the  alarm  which  is  the  signal  understood 
by  every  one  of  their  mates.  Those  that  watch  in 
the  beginning,  are  from  time  to  time  relieved,  while 
others  mount  guard  in  their  places.  It  is  impossi- 
ble to  tell  how  it  is  arranged,  that  the  distribution 


Care  of  Young, 


141 

of  labor  shall  be  just ; but  a careful  watching  of  the 
flocks,  shows  that  there  is  a regular  system  for 
change  of  sentinels. 

Major  Stansbury*  gives  us  an  account  of  the 
young  Pelicans  at  Utah  Lake  being  watched  over 
by  one  old  Pelican,  while  the  others  were  engaged 
in  fishing.  Each  sentinel  or  guard,  was  regularly 
relieved,  in  turn,  by  another  taking  her  place. 
Here  the  community  system  was  introduced  among 
these  birds  for  the  purpose  of  caring  for  their  young. 
But  as  he  found  one  old  Pelican,  though  blind  and 
unable  to  fish  for  himself,  still  sleek  and  apparently 
well  cared  for  by  his  fellows,  it  is  fair  to  infer  that 
the  community  system,  among  these  birds,  secures 
to  some  extent,  mutual  aid  among  adults. 

I have  myself  seen  something  of  this  communi- 
ty of  action,  in  the  care  of  young,  among  the  Arctic 
Tern  on  the  coast  of  Greenland.  One  little  grassy 
island,  that  I had  the  opportunity  of  watching  for 
eight  days,  was  entirely  occupied  by  Tern.  They 
made  no  nests,  but  deposited  their  eggs  among  the 
grass.  The  island  fairly  swarmed  with  their  young, 
from  those  just  out  of  the  shell  to  those  of  full  size, 
ready  to  fly.  The  old  birds  made  common  cause 
against  any  intruder ; and  it  was  settled  by  obser- 
vation, that  they  did  not  always  feed  their  own 
young.  Three  difierent  adults  were  seen  feeding 
the  same  young  bird  that  had  been  placed  upon  a 
rock  by  himself.  All  the  young  seemed  to  be  well 
cared  for ; but  how  the  favors  of  the  old  birds  were 


* Ex.  Doc.,  No.  3 Senate,  Sp.  Sess.  1851. 


142 


Instinct, 


properly  distributed,  among  such  a scrambling  mul- 
titude of  young,  is  a mystery. 

As  a farther  illustration  of  the  advantage  to  the 
individual,  from  the  community,  we  have  animals 
that  build  together  and  enter  upon  extensive  works 
for  the  common  good..  The  Beaver  is  generally  con- 
sidered as  the  best  example  of  animals  of  this  kind, 
— at  least  among  the  vertebrates.  There  is  hardly 
an  animal  on  the  globe  that  offers  more  curious 
instinctive  habits  for  study ; and  hardly  one  that 
has  been  more  misrepresented  in  our  popular  works. 
The  wonderful  instincts  of  the  Beaver,  make  up  an 
interesting  part  of  those  story  books  where  fact  and 
fiction  are  mingled  together ; though  the  facts,  if 
fully  stated,  would  be  more  wonderful  than  any 
fiction. 

The  world  is  indebted  to  Mr.  Lewis  H.  Morgan, 
of  New  York,  for  a work  on  the  Beaver,  that  is  a 
model  for  all  to  study,  who  would  investigate  the 
habits  of  any  animal.  He  has  swept  away  a mass 
of  rubbish  that  we  used  to  be  taught ; and  has  sub- 
stituted in  its  place  the  plain  facts  gathered  by 
years  of  personal  observation  among  Beaver-dams 
and  lodges.  He  not  only  describes  what  he  has 
seen,  but  he  brings  before  us  copies  of  Beavers’ 
works,  by  photographing  them  as  they  are  found. 

His  facts  are  reliable — his  speculations  based 
upon  those  facts  may,  of  course,  be  accepted  or  re- 
jected by  any  one,  according  to  his  estimate  of  the 
proof  presented  to  establish  each  point. 

Mr.  Morgan  grants  that  the  Beaver  is  a social 
animal,  but  he  denies  that  Beavers  work  as  organ- 


The  Beaver. 


143 


ized  colonies,  as  it  has  generally  been  supposed 
they  do.  He  seems  to  think  that  they  work  as 
families  ; but  that  each  family  is  quite  distinct  in  all 
its  works  from  every  other  family  around  the  pond. 
He  supposes  that  a Beaver-dam  is  generally  begun 
by  a single  pair,  and  that  it  grows  by  the  labors  of 
all  the  Beavers  inhabiting  the  pond  in  after  years  ; 
but  that  each  Beaver  works  by  himself,  in  making 
the  additions  or  repairs,  except  where  a great  inju- 
ry calls  many  to  work  at  the  same  time.  Then 
they  do  not  come  as  an  organization  under  leaders,* 
but  each  does  the  best  he  can.  He  certainly 
makes  out  a very  clear  case  of  the  community  sys- 
tem, so  far  as  the  inmates  of  a single  lodge  are  con- 
cerned ; — and  the  impression  is  left  on  some  minds 
that  there  is  something  like  concerted  action  on 
the  part  of  all  the  families,  inhabiting  a pond,  for 
the  preservation  of  the  dam.  Certain  it  is,  that 
members  of  each  lodge  do  their  part  of  the  work, 
whether  they  do  it  in  concert  with  the  others  or 
not ; and  they  do  it  in  such  a manner  that  the  re- 
sult is  the  same  as  that  of  organized  action.  We 
find  dams,  and  lodges,  and  burrows  for  escape. 
There  is  a straight  entrance  to  the  lodge  for  the  in- 
troducing of  wood,  and  an  abrupt  entrance  with 
winding  channels,  for  the  escape  of  the  occupants, 
in  case  of  danger.  There  is  the  cutting  of  timber, 
sometimes  of  trees  two  feet  in  diameter.  Wood  is 
stored  up  beneath  the  waters  for  winter  food  ; but 
how  it  is  kept  under  the  water,  no  one  can  yet  tell 
with  certainty.  The  refuse  wood,  after  the  bark  is 
removed,  is  preserved  for  repairing  the  lodges  and 


144 


Instinct. 


dams.  In  fact,  the  whole  social  economy  of  a Bea- 
ver colony,  is  as  perfect  as  though  they  worked  by 
an  organization  like  that  of  the  hive-bee  ; and  the 
facts  as  detailed  by  Mr.  Morgan,  are  certainly  as 
wonderful  as  any  fictitious  story  of  Beaver  sagacity 
ever  printed.  When  we  read  the  book  we  wish 
that  every  animal  had  such  a historian ; that  we 
might  know  something  more  of  this  world  of  ours 
than  we  do,  and  have  reliable  materials  when  we 
wish  to  investigate  any  question  respecting  the 
habits  of  the  beings  around  us. 

But  when  our  author  begins  to  speculate  in  re- 
gard to  the  mental  powers  of  the  Beaver,  we  feel 
called  upon  to  dissent  from  many  of  his  conclusions, 
while  accepting  the  facts  that  he  uses,  as  estab- 
lished. 

After  acknowledging  that  the  Beaver  stands  very 
low  in  his  physical  organization,  he  ranks  him  very 
high  in  Intelligence,  on  account  of  the  complexity 
of  his  works  and  their  adaptation  to  his  wants. 
And  by  intelligence  here  is  meant  simply  the  pow- 
er in  the  actor,  of  comprehending  means  as  securing 
an  end  desirable  and  good  for  himself,  in  all  his  re- 
lations; in  distinction  from  that  voluntary  action 
that  secures  the  same  kind  of  good  for  the  actor, 
where  comprehension  on  his  part,  is  plainly  out  of 
the  question.  The  same  course  of  reasoning,  by 
which  the  power  of  comprehension  is  ascribed  to 
the  Beaver,  on  account  of  the  complexity  of  his 
works  and  their  adaptation  to  his  wants,  would 
place  the  Honey-bee  high  in  the  scale  of  free  intel- 
ligence. There  is,  indeed,  mote  variation  in  the 


Uniformity  of  the  work. 


145 


work  of  the  Beaver  to  meet  different  conditions  of 
life,  than  the  Honey-bee  is  called  upon  to  exhibit. 
But  the  uniformity,  with  which  Beavers  do  their 
work  in  any  given  place,  and  their  uniform  change 
of  method  under  different  conditions,  seem  to  point 
to  that  variation  of  the  instinctive  principle,  to 
which  we  have  already  referred,  rather  than  to  free 
intelligence, — a variation  no  greater  than  is  found 
even  in  the  growth  of  plants,  to  adapt  them  to  dif- 
ferent conditions  of  life,  but  which,  because  in  ani- 
mals it  is  connected  with  volition,  is  very  likely  to 
be  regarded  as  a sufficient  proof  of  comprehension  in 
the  actor. 

The  Muskrat,  which  is  nearly  allied  to  the  Bea- 
ver, has  the  same  sort  of  variation  in  his  habits  to 
meet  the  conditions  where  he  is  placed.  But  the 
variation  is  so  uniform  that  the  animal  is  plainly 
under  some  guiding  power  which  is  to  him  a law  of 
action.  Muskrats,  whose  ancestors  have  for  gener- 
ations burrowed  in  the  banks  of  the  stream,  will  at 
once  begin  to  build  houses,  if  a dam  is  raised  so 
that  they  can  no  longer  burrow.  And  those  houses 
will  be  built  like  all  other  Muskrat  houses, the  world 
over.  That  is,  there  will  be  that  generic  likeness 
which  shows  that  the  lodge  is  built  under  the  im- 
pulse and  guidance  of  some  principle  entirely  dif- 
ferent from  the  power  of  comprehension  and  con- 
trivance, seen  among  men.  Since  it  is  impossible 
that  all  animals  of  the  same  species  should  find 
places  exactly  alike  to  build  in,  the  impulse  and 
guidance,  which  for  a better  name  we  call  Instinct, 
would  be  folly  itself,  if  it  did  not  vary  sufficiently 
1 


146 


Instinct. 


to  meet  the  conditions  of  the  case,  under  all  ordi- 
nary circumstances.  Therefore  on  the  theory  that 
Beavers  are  guided  by  an  Instinct  that  directs  with- 
out intelligent  comprehension, on  their  part,of  means 
and  ends,  it  is  not  strange  that  their  houses  grow 
thicker  and  larger  as  they  grow  older;  and  that 
repairs  and  changes  are  made  as  the  number  of  occu- 
pants increase.  The  uniformity  in  the  character 
of  their  work,  under  similar  conditions,  is  certainly 
in  favor  of  the  theory  of  guidance  by  Instinct. 
And  the  very  complexity  of  the  works,  upon  which 
Mr.  Morgan  bases  his  argument  for  the  high  rank 
of  the  beaver  in  free,  self-conscious  Intelligence,  we 
regard  as  an  argument  against  it,  because  we  have 
complexity  with  such  uniformity.  In  proving  In- 
telligence to  be  the  controlling  agency  in  contriving 
and  carrying  out  all  these  complex  works,  he 
seems  to  prove  too  much.  For  if  we  refer  all  the 
works  of  the  Beaver  to  Intelligence,  of  the  same 
kind  as  man  possesses,  we  must  concede  to  him 
abilities  very  nearly,  if  not  quite  equal  to  those  of 
man,  for  planning  such  works.  For  he  would  be  a 
wise  man  that,  having  only  the  Beaver’s  instruments 
to  work  with,  could  do  his  work.  In  fact  all  his 
works,  that  we  do  understand,  we  approve  of  as  the 
best  that  could  be  done,  even  by  us,  to  reach  the 
same  ends  ; and  he  does  some  things  that  the  wisest 
man  does  not  yet  know  how  to  do.  There  is  com- 
plexity and  uniformity  under  similar  conditions, 
— variation  in  the  work  of  the  whole  species  when 
the  circumstances  demand  it,  and  yet  under  all  these 
conditions,  a uniform  method  of  adapting  means  to 


Question  of  Origin, 


147 


ends  in  the  best  manner.  If  all  this  comes  from 
Intelligence  in  the  actor,  he  is  certainly  of  high 
rank. 

Among  all  the  animals  thus  far  mentioned,  the 
community  might  be  considered  an  entirely  acci- 
dental thing;  though  in  this  case,  the  organization 
of  the  community,  manifested  in  the  appointment 
of  sentinels  and  the  notes  of  alarm,  must  be  consid- 
ered the  complicated  mechanism  of  Instinct  in 
many,  working  together  for  the  good  of  the  indi- 
viduals composing  the  community;  or,  if  the  or- 
ganization be  regarded  as  the  outgrowth  of  expe- 
rience and  the  result  of  contrivance  to  meet  the 
exigencies  of  the  community,  we  must  be  ready  to 
concede  to  all  these  animals  as  well  as  to  the  Bea- 
ver, a high  degree  of  Intelligence  and  the  power  of 
adapting  means  to  ends  as  perfectly  as  is  ever  done 
among  men  for  such  purposes ; and  we  must  also  grant 
them  high  powers  of  generalization  and  induction 
and  as  plain  principles  of  prudence,  as  men  ordina- 
rily manifest.  Nor  does  it  change  the  question  to 
say  that  this  provision  made  by  flocks  is  now  me- 
chanical, but  the  result  of  habits  acquired  gradual- 
ly long  ago  under  conditions  of  danger  and  need. 
If  there  is  found  among  any  species  of  social  ani- 
mals an  organization  by  which,  as  a community, 
they  are  provided  for  or  guarded  against  danger  by 
sentinels  and  signals,  which  can  be  referred  to  their 
Intelligence  at  all,  as  a system  marked  out  by  them 
from  the  comprehension  and  adoption  of  a plan, 
then  that  plan  was  worked  out  by  the  flock  which 
we  see  before  us,  or  it  was  worked  out  by  some  in- 


148 


Instinct. 


dividual  of  that  flock  and  impressed  upon  the  oth* 
ers  by  a system  of  instruction,  or  it  was  worked  out 
at  some  time, by  some  ancestors  of  the  present  flock, 
and  continued  till  it  became  a habit  of  the  whole 
species  to  operate  according  to  this  plan.  A thing 
must  be  done  for  the  first  time  before  it  can  become 
a habit ; and  it  must  be  often  repeated,  before  it 
can  become  a habit  for  the  individual  even ; and 
much  longer  before  the  habit  could  become  heredi- 
tary, if  at  all.  So  that  the  doctrine  that  Instinct 
is  formed  through  the  influence  of  the  experiences 
and  habits  of  ancestors,  only  removes  the  difficulty 
one  step  farther  back.  Nor  does  it  change  the 
matter  to  say  that  the  result  we  now  see  is  the  ef- 
fect of  minute  changes  brought  about  through 
great  cycles.  Each  change  was  a step,  and  when 
the  process  was  complete  through  many  steps,  it 
represented  the  same  powers  in  the  species  as 
though  the  steps  had  been  taken  in  a generation. 
A cotton-mill  is  the  result  of  great  experience  con- 
tinued through  many  generations  of  men ; and  it 
also  represents  the  contrivance  of  hosts  of  men  in 
the  present  and  past  ages  to  meet  the  wants  which 
experience  suggested.  But  the  cotton-mill  to  day, 
is  as  truly  a product  of  human  thought,  as  though 
the  present  generation  had  built  one  now  for  the 
first  tim'e.  And  the  first  machine  invented  showed 
the  same  kind  of  power  in  the  inventor  as  the  last 
and  most  complicated.  So  we  say  that  these 
manifestations  of  Instinct  among  social  animals, 
taken  as  a whole,  or  divided  into  the  greatest  num- 
ber of  steps  possible,  must  be  the  result  of  impulse 


Communities, 


149 


and  guidance  given  to  animals  just  as  we  now  see 
them  manifested,  or  they  show  the  same  high  pow- 
ers in  kind,  in  the  animal,  as  the  man  possesses  who 
studies  them  and  approves  of  them  as  the  perfec- 
tion of  wisdom  for  the  individual  animal  and  the 
flock. 

But  we  now  come  to  consider  certain  social  ani- 
mals that  cannot  exist,  except  as  communities. 
There  is,  in  some  species,  such  difference  in  struc- 
ture and  function  and  Instinct  in  individuals  of  the 
same  communities,  that  there  is  a division  of  labor 
marked  out  and  made  necessary  by  the  very  nature 
of  these  individuals.  The  peculiarities  found  in 
some  species  that  make  the  organization  of  the  com- 
munity most  efficient,  are  destructive  to  isolated 
individual  life. 

Of  such  animals,  the  Honey-bee  is  a good  ex- 
ample and  the  best  known.  We  have  in  this  spe- 
cies, the  Queen-mother,  the  drones  or  males,  and 
the  workers ; in  the  latter  of  which  there  is  no 
power  of  reproduction.  Without  the  Queen-moth- 
er there  could  be  no  continuance  of  the  species,  as 
she  alone  produces  all  the  eggs  for  the  swarming 
hive.  The  Queen  and  the  drone,  it  would  seem, 
would  alone  be  sufficient  to  secure  the  continuance 
of  the  species.  But  not  so  ; for  they  do  not  even 
collect  honey  for  themselves,  to  say  nothing  of 
their  numerous  progeny.  To  complete  the  organ- 
ization of  the  hive,  there  must  be  another  class,  the 
workers,  which  shall  collect  food  and  do  all  the 
work  of  building  for  themselves,  the  Queen  and 
young.  The  conditions  for  an  organized  commu- 


150 


Instinct. 


nity  are  now  complete.  The  great  mass  of  individ- 
uals in  the  hive,  gain  their  reputation  for  industry 
by  working  for  the  common  good, — for  Queen  and 
drone  and  young, — as  well  as  for  themselves.  And 
to  this  complicated  organization,  the  instincts  of 
each  individual  are  adjusted,  so  that  each  performs 
its  part,  as  each  organ  of  the  body  performs  its  of- 
fice, or  each  official  would  perform  his  part  in  a per- 
fectly organized  kingdom. 

Among  Bumble-bees  and  Wasps  we  find  differ- 
ent kinds  of  individuals  in  the  same  community 
as  in  the  Honey-bee  hive,  but  these  communities 
continue  only  a single  season.  The  fertile  females 
alone  survive  the  rigors  of  winter,  while  the  multi- 
tude die  and  the  old  nests  are  deserted  never  again 
to  be  inhabited.  These  mothers,  that  are  to  preserve 
the  species,  hide  away  in  secure  resting-places,  till 
spring  calls  them  forth  to  commence  alone  the 
founding  of  new  colonies. 

Different  species  of  the  common  Ant,  as  well 
as  the  so  called  White  Ant,  afford  marked  illustra- 
tions of  this  diversity  of  structure,  function  and  In- 
stinct in  members  of  the  same  species,  for  the  good 
of  the  community. 

It  has  been  known  since  the  time  of  Huber  the 
younger,  that  some  species  of  Ants  make  slaves  of 
the  neuters  of  other  species.  The  Red  Ants  of 
Europe  {Formica  rufescens)  not  only  make  slaves 
of  the  Brown  Ants  {Formica  fiisca),  but  are  entirely 
dependent  upon  them,  being  utterly  unable  to  take 
care  of  themselves.  We  here  see  a need  so  imper- 
ative that  this  whole  species  of  Ants  would  die  in 


Darzvin  s Theory. 


151 

a single  year  without  the  Instinct  of  making  slaves 
and  what  would  their  slaves  be  worth  if  they  had 
not  the  Instinct  to  do  the  work?  And  yet  they 
are  always  fresh  importations  and,  being  neuters, 
have  no  power  to  reproduce  their  kind  and  trans- 
mit the  habit  of  being  a slave,  as  an  Instinct. 

Darwin  has  acknowledged  all  these  facts  in  his 
work  on  the  origin  of  species.*  With  his  accus- 
tomed thoroughness,  he  set  himself  to  verify  the 
statements  of  other  Entomologists  by  his  own  ob- 
servations. After  satisfying  himself  of  the  facts,  he 
goes  resolutely  at  work  to  make  this  state  of  things 
appear  consistent  with  his  theory ; though  he  con- 
fesses that  at  first  it  seemed  fatal  to  it.  After  a 
careful  examination  of  his  arguments  to  show  that 
all  these  differences  might  have  been  secured  by  Nat- 
ural Selection,  we  are  compelled  to  say  that  not  only 
does  he  seem  to  fail  in  fairly  meeting  the  objections 
that  he  himself  acknowledges  to  lie  against  his 
theory,  in  these  phenomena  of  social  insects,  but 
many  more  objections  and  more  perplexing,  must 
arise  in  the  mind  of  every  naturalist  who  has  so  far 
studied  the  facts  in  the  case,  as  to  be  able  to  fairly 
bring  them  to  the  test  of  Mr.  Darwin’s  theory ; or 
rather  to  test  the  theory  by  them. 

Mr.  Darwin  thinks  the  wonderful  Instinct  of  the 
Honey-bee,  by  which  it  builds  cells  that  he  ac- 
knowledges could  not  be  improved  upon,  might  be 
accounted  for  in  this  way.f  The  making  of  wax 
takes  a great  deal  of  honey ; and  so  it  would  come 

* “ Origin  of  Species,”  5th  Am.  Ed.,  pp.  225-332. 

f Ibid.,  pp.  333,  234. 


152 


Instinct. 


to  pass  that  those  swarms  of  bees  which  build  with 
the  least  wax,  would  have  most  honey  left  for  win- 
ter, and  so  be  most  likely  to  live.  The  best  build- 
ers would  in  this  way,  be  preserved,  while  all  the 
poor  builders  would,  in  time,  die  off. 

Here  it  will  be  observed  that  the  theory  does 
not  go  back  far  enough  to  account  for  the  whole 
case.  At  most,  it  simply  offers  an  explanation 
of  the  preservation  of  those  swarms  made  up  of 
the  best  builders.  But  we  want  to  know  how 
the  bee  became  a builder  at  all?  and  how  the  In- 
stinct to  build  cells  and  the  function  of  secreting 
wax  fitted  for  the  work,  began  together ; and  how 
the  Honey-bee  got  along  before  it  had  either  the 
function  or  the  Instinct,  both  of  which  now  seem 
essential  to  its  very  existence?  Then  we  have  also 
to  observe  that  it  is  the  neuter  bees  that  secrete 
the  wax  and  build  the  cells  ; and  since  these  neuter 
bees  are  sterile,  the  characteristics  they  possess  and 
the  skill  they  acquire,  cannot  be  transmitted.  All 
the  bees  that  build  cells  and  gather  honey,  have  de- 
scended for  thousands  of  years,  at  least,  from  pa- 
rents that  never  did  any  thing  of  the  kind. 

Now  this,  Mr.  Darwin  would  probably  say,  is  a 
case  of  correlation.*  That  is,  it  is  true  the  parents 
do  not  do  these  things,  but  these  powers  of  the 
neuters  are  so  correlated  to  the  needs  of  the  com- 
munity, that  the  whole  species  become  good  builders 
by  Natural  Selection,  because  those  swarms  alone 
are  preserved  where  such  neuters  are  produced  as  get 
along  with  little  wax  and  consequently  with  little 


* “ Origin  of  Species,”  5tli  Am.  Ed.,  pp.  227,  228. 


Selection  Theory  applied. 


153 


loss  of  honey.  He  makes  his  explanation  of  the 
existence  of  the  Instinct  that  constructs  hexagonal 
cells,  all  turn  on  the  fact  that  the  bees  must  live 
over  the  winter. 

But  let  us  consider  the  work  of  the  Wasps  in 
the  light  of  this  theory.  They  do  not  use  up  honey 
in  making  their  cells,  and  they  do  not  live  over  the 
winter,  so  that  Natural  Selection  has  no  chance  to 
preserve  the  best  builders  through  any  such  means 
as  might  be  urged  in  the  case  of  the  Honey-bee. 
The  Wasps  perish  every  fall,  excepting  a few  fertile 
females  that  desert  the  nest  and  live  in  some  hiding- 
place,  as  we  have  before  explained,  to  commence 
the  new  colonies  the  next  year ; and  yet  several 
species  of  Wasps  and  Hornets  build  six-sided  cells, 
like  the  Honey-bee. 

There  is  nothing  here  that  aids  at  all,  in  the 
selection  theory,  even  as  Mr.  Darwin  has  attempted 
to  apply  it  to  the  Honey-bee.*  Both  of  the  means 
through  which  he  attempts  to  show  that  Natural 
Selection  acts  in  saving  skilful  builders, — the  saving 
of  honey  in  making  cells  of  the  best  pattern  and 
the  necessity  of  the  honey  so  saved,  for  winter  use, 
— are  here  wanting  ; and  yet  the  Wasps  are  as  skil- 
ful mathematicians  as  though  the  existence  of  the 
species  depended  upon  the  angle  of  the  cell ! 

The  plain  truth  is,  we  have  Bees  and  Wasps 
building  in  many  different  ways.  Each  method  is 
connected  with  a peculiar  structure  and  a whole 
train  of  Instincts.  Besides,  the  whole  doctrine  of 
correlation,  that  seems  to  be  solely  relied  upon  to 


''  Origin  of  Species,”  Stii  Am.  Ed.,  pp.  223,  224. 


154 


Instinct, 


explain  the  perfection  of  the  different  kinds  of  in- 
sects found  in  such  communities  as  we  have  described, 
has  no  sort  of  application  to  the  slave  Ants.  They 
do  their  work  perfectly,  supplementing  the  defect- 
ive organization  and  Instincts  of  their  masters  ; but 
they  are  neuters,  and  never  reproduce  their  kind  ! 
and  the  communities  from  which  they  are  stolen  can- 
not be  affected  in  any  way  by  the  stealing  of  their 
young,  so  as  to  cause  them  to  produce  this  remark- 
able set  of  slaves  just  fitted  in  structure  and  Instinct 
to  do  the  work  which  their  captors  must  have  done 
for  them,  in  order  to  live. 

While  acknowledging  the  powerful  influence  of 
Natural  Selection  in  preserving  the  fittest,  if  we 
were  called  upon  to  work  out  a problem  in  creation 
that  should  make  the  belief  in  the  origin  of  species 
by  Natural  Selection  impossible,  we  should  be  un- 
able to  suggest  a single  change  in  the  relation  of 
the  social  insects  as  a whole,  that  would  make  a 
stronger  case  against  such  an  origin  of  the  species 
than  we  have  in  the  relations  now  existing  in  many 
of  the  communities  already  considered.  These  re- 
lations seem  to  us  more  opposed  to  the  theory  of 
origin  of  species  through  selection,  than  any  thing 
found  in  the  physical  organization  of  man  even ; 
and  in  reference  to  the  human  species,  Mr.  Wallace, 
one  of  the  originators  of  the  theory,  acknowledges 
that  it  fails  to  satisfy  him  fully.* 

There  is  no  dispute  about  the  facts — no  dispute 
about  the  fact  of  variation,  no  dispute  about  the 
important  influence  of  Natural  Selection.  But  that 


* “ Natural  Selection,”  pp.  332-350. 


Accidental  Variation. 


155 


any  given  result  in  animal  life,  such  as  is  seen  in 
the  complex  societies  of  social  insects,  can  be  accom- 
plished by  these  agencies  working  even  for  untold 
ages,  does  not  follow.  Some  results  may  follow, 
but  they  must  be  such  as  these  agencies  have  some 
competency  to  produce ; and  we  must  have  some 
reasonable  account  of  the  origin  of  certain  elements 
of  the  animal  economy,  as  well  as  of  their  modifi- 
cation. But  it  is  asked  at  once.  If  you  grant  ^‘acci- 
dental variation”  *and  indefinite  periods  of  time  for 
the  work  of  selection,  have  you  not  the  elements 
of  working  out  any  supposable  result  ? We  answer, 
No.  We  can  understand  that  a painter  by  throw- 
ing his  sponge,  in  anger  or  desperation,  upon  his 
picture,  might  accidentally  paint  the  foam  upon  the 
mouth  of  the  dog  with  a naturalness  that  his  pencil 
had  failed  to  give.  We  can  believe  that  this  has 
been  done.  But  now  if  we  were  told  that  a picture, 
like  one  of  Landseer’s  or  Rosa  Bonheur’s,  could  be 
made  by  throwing  paint  sponges  against  a canvas 
an  indefinite  number  of  times,  we  should  not  be- 
lieve it ; even  if  the  experiment  could  be  tried  every 
day  for  millions  of  years.  And  although  we  can 

* We  use  the  words  “ accidental  mriation”  to  signify  any 
change  that  may  occur  in  an  organic  being  under  new  condi- 
tions— any  change  not  specially  provided  for  in  his  plan  of  de- 
velopment— any  change  by  which  individuals  depart  from  the 
normal  type  of  the  species.  It  is  in  this  way  that  we  under- 
stood Mr.  Darwin  to  use  the  words,  and  in  the  same  way,  we 
understand  Mr.  Wright  to  use  them,  in  his  defence  of  Darwin, 
written  since  these  Lectures  were  delivered.  (North  Am,  Rev., 
July  1871.)  No  one  who  understands  Mr.  Darwin,  would  accuse 
him  of  using  the  word  “ accidental  ” in  any  such  sense  as  to 
imply  any  denial  of  causality. 


156 


Instinct, 


readily  believe  that  type  might  be  so  thrown  by 
accident  as  to  form  a word,  we  could  not  on  that 
account  believe  that  a single  page  could  be  printed 
in  that  way,  making  an  intelligent  story,  even  if  the 
experiment  could  be  tried  every  day  for  a geolog- 
ic age.  If  it  is  said  we  ought  to  believe  in  such 
results,  from  the  elements  of  variation  and  indefi- 
nite time,  we  cannot  help  it.  We  are  satisfied  that 
with  the  same  data  to  rely  upon,  all  men  will  not 
reach  the  same  conclusions.  It  is  possible  that  this 
may  be  partly  the  result  of  training,  and  it  may 
arise  from  a constitutional  difference  among  men 
in  weighing  proof.  Probably  we  shall  have  to  wait 
a long  time  for  Natural  Selection  to  give  us  a race 
of  men,  who  shall  have  powers  of  observation  and 
reasoning  so  nearly  alike,  that  they  shall  all  reach 
the  same  results  on  such  subjects.  In  the  mean 
time,  it  becomes  every  one,  who  treats  of  such  sub- 
jects at  all,  to  make  sure  of  his  facts,  to  meekly  fol- 
low any  theory  sustained  by  the  facts,  and  resolute- 
ly oppose  any,  that  seems  to  him  inconsistent  with 
them. 


LECTURE  VII. 


INSTINCT  CONNECTED  WITH  THE  PARENTAL  RELA- 
TION.— AS  DEMANDING  CERTAIN  CHANGES  IN 
OTHER  ANIMALS  AND  PLANTS. — ^^A  LAW  FOR 
THE  ANIMAL, — AS  SUBJECT  TO  VARIATION. 

Effect  of  Parental  Instinct. — Completes  its  course. — Disturbed  by 
Domestication. — Answering  Instinct  of  the  young. — Correlation^^ 
of  the  three  kingdoms  of  Nature. — Hibernation. — Gall-flies. -flch- 
neumon-flies.  -^Pot-fly.  — Tent-moth.  — Oak-pruners.  — Borer. — 
Preservation  of  the  fittest. — Instinct  as  a Law. — Uniformity 
among  Anbnals .-—Periodicity  and  Self-regulating  power  of  the 
Appetites. — Instinct  can  be  deceived. — Follows  the  impression  of  the 
senses. — Variation  of  Instinct. — Production  of  varieties. — Defini- 
tion of  an  Instinct.,  and  of  Instinct  as  a general  term. 

We  have  already  referred,  incidentally,  to  some  of 
the  manifestations  of  Instinct  connected  with  the 
parental  relation.  But  there  is  in  this  relation,  so 
much  of  antagonism  to  common  instincts,  as  to 
make  it  worthy  of  separate  consideration. 

In  many  cases,  the  character  of  the  animal, 
while  it  has  young,  seems  to  be  entirely  changed. 
Often  the  most  timid  animals  become  brave  in  de- 
fence of  their  offspring,  and  the  welfare  of  the  indi- 
vidual is  sacrificed  for  the  good  of  the  species.  We 
may  announce  it  as  the  general  law  of  all  the  in- 
stincts connected  with  the  reproduction  of  young, 
that  they  are  exercised  at  the  expense  of  the  indi- 


158 


Instinct. 


vidual.  In  the  case  of  some  of  the  lower  animals, 
as  insects,  this  effect  is  so  marked  that  death  almost 
immediately  follows,  after  provision  has  been  made 
for  the  continuance  of  the  species.  And  among 
mammals  of  every  grade,  not  only  is  the  production 
of  young  a draft  upon  the  animal  powers,  but  the 
maintenance  and  defence  of  the  young,  lead  animals 
to  encounter  many  dangers*  to  which  they  would 
not  otherwise  be  exposed.  [The  instinctive  love  of 
life,  even,  is  often  held  in  abeyance,  by  the  instinct- 
ive love  of  offspring  ; so  that  animals  expose  them- 
selves to  death,  in  defence  of  their 


This  instinct,  that  leads  to  the  care  of  the  young, 
continues  in  full  force  while  they  need  the  care. 
But  in  the  case  of  some  animals,  that  have  been 
carefully  observed,  it  has  been  found  that  there 


comes  a time,  when  this  instinct  is 


, so  to 


speak, — when  the  mother  will  drive  from  her  the 
young,  which,  a few  days  before,  she  would  have 
risked  her  life  in  defence  of.  It  is  interesting  to 
see  the  entire  change  that  takes  place,  sometimes, 
in  a single  day.  As  long  as  the  hen  appears  with 
ruffled  feathers  and  an  angry  sounding  cluck,  she 
is  ready  to  fight  for  her  chickens ; but  all  of  a sud- 
den, her  feathers  are  smooth,  her  voice  changes 
from  the  cluck  to  a musical  note ; and  then  she 
fiercely  drives  her  young  from  her.  Her  Instinct 
has  now  completed  its  round.  Every  peculiar  in- 
stinct of  motherhood  appeared,  as  the  production 
of  young  and  their  protection  required  it.  Each 
one  appeared  in  connection  with  certain  bodily 
functions,  over  which  she  had  no  control.  I When 


Influence  of  Domestication, 


159 


the  functions  ^ased,  the  special  instincts  ceased 
with  them.  Her  Instinct  is,  henceforth,  exercised 
in  the  constant  labor  of  self-protection  and  self-sup- 
port, till  a new  round  of  duties  begin,  with  the  mak- 
ing of  a new  nest. 

In  the  unnatural  conditions  under  which  many/ 
of  our  domestic  animals  are  kept,  this  instinct,  that 
leads  to  the  production  and  care  of  young,  is  appar- 
ently modified,  or  kept  in  abeyance,  by  some 
stronger  instinct  or  change  of  function,  that  we  do 
not  understand.  Certain  animals,  as  Elephants  and 
X Eagles,  never  produce  young  while  under  the  con- 
trol of  man  ; and  in  other  cases,  certain  instincts, 
that  continue  to  act  to  some  extent,  are  weakened 
and  rendered  irregular  in  their  action  ; as  in  the 
case  of  fowls,  which  produce  eggs,  but  never  brood  ; 
and  sheep  that  will  not  own  their  young. 

When  we  consider  how  dependent  Instinct  is 
upon  function,  and  know  how  domestication  inter- 
feres with  the  natural  habits  of  animals,  and  also 
that  the  selection  exercised  b^  man,  often  comes 
in  to  secure  conditions  of  life  that  never  would  oc- 
cur under  the  influence  of  Natural  Selection,  we 
shall  be  prepared  to  find  many  seeming  anomalies 
of  Instinct  among  our  domestic  animals.  These 
anom^ies  may  give  us  important  information,  as 
to  the  original  habits  of  these  animals,  or  as  to  the 
plasticity  of  their  natures  in  the  hand  of  man. 
There  is  now,  in  Natural  History,  no  more  inter- 
esting field  of  observation  than  that  offered  by  our 
domestic  animals, — no  one,  that  promises  more  ad- 
vantage to  science,  or  to  the  money  interests  of  the 


i6o 


Instinct. 


community.  But  of  the  variation  of  Instinct  un- 
der domestication  and  its  relation  to  man,  we  shall 
have  occasion  to  speak  again. 

I All  Instinct,  on  the  part  of  many  animals,  would, 
/ loe  useless  in  providing  for  their  young,  were  there' 
not  an  answering  Instinct  on  the  part  of  the  young,! 
that  brings  them  into  proper  relation  to  their  pa- 
rents, or  to  the  world,  in  those  cases  where  paren- 
tal care  cannot  avail  for  them. 

The  cry  of  danger,  from  the  hen  or  partridge, 
/would  be  of  no  avail  to  save  her  scattered  brood, 
were  there  not  an  answering  Instinct  in  the  young, 
that  instantly  recognizes  the  note  of  warning,  and 
impels  them  to  seek  cover.  They  fly  /rcm  the 
mother  and  hide  themselves ; as  though  conscious 
that  she  cannot  protect  them  from  the  bird  of  prey, 
without  exposing  herself  to  death. 

Among  our  highest  domestic  animals,  the  mam- 
mals, the  care  of  the  dam  would  fail  to  provide  for 
} the  young,  were  there  not  an  Instinct  which  leads 
the  young  to  seek  the  udder.  Here  is  the  milk  se- 
creted ; and  it  is  the  food,  and  the  only  proper 
food,  for  the  young.  And  they  seek  it  for  them- 
selves ; for  not  one  of  these  hoof-bearing  mammals, 
could  feed  its  own  young ; or,  in  any  direct  way, 
aid  the  young  in  feeding ; and  the  same  is  true  of 
wild  animals,  that  have  the  same  structure.  The 
young  of  such  animals,  must  feed  themselves,  with- 
out aid  or  instruction.  They  must  feed  themselves 
at  once,  or  die.  There  never  was  a time  when 
those  animals  could  care  better  for  their  young  than 


Prompt  Action  Required.  i6i 

now.  Their  very  existence  is  proof  of  Instinct  as 
a gift,  and  not  as  the  result  of  experience, — an  In- 
stinct, as  perfect  in  the  beginning  as  now ; for  an 
experience,  without  the  Instinct  first  given  as  a 
condition,  is  impossible,  from  the  very  structure  of 
those  hoof-bearing  tribes,  which  can  give  their 
young  no  aid  whatever,  in  securing  food. 

Among  birds,  as  we  have  noticed  in  another 
coiinection,  we  have  beautiful  examples  of  the  in- 
stinct of  the  young  responsive  to  the  instinct  of  the 
mother.  Many  birds  are  hatched  in  a very  imma- 
ture state.  They  can  neither  fly,  nor  walk,  nor  see. 
iVll  they  have  strength  to  do,  is  to  raise  the  head 
and  open  the  bill ; and  this  they  all  do  every  time 
the  mother  lights  upon  the  nest.  They  do  it  at 
once ; it  is  all  they  need  to  do ; but  this  they  must 
do,  or  die.  There  is  no  time  for  them  to  learn  by 
experience, — they  must  be  ready  to  do  the  right 
thing  at  once^  of  their  own  accord.  And  there  was 
no  better  chance  for  any  ancestor  to  learn  by  expe- 
rience. This  habit,  common  to  all  kinds  of  young 
birds  hatched  in  an  immature  state,  could  not  be 
an  acquired  habit ; but  must  be  something  given 
as  independently  of  any  agency  of  ancestors,  as  the 
growth  of  bone  or  the  arrangement  of  muscles.^'" 

A marvellous  thing  it  is,  that  the  mother  bird, 
when  the  brood  is  numerous,  should  be  able  rightly 
to  divide  her  favors.  If  she  is  guided  by  sight  at 
^11,  there  must  be  wonderful  acuteness  of  vision, 
^hat  enables  Woodpeckers  and  Wrens,  in  their  cov- 
ered nests,  and  Kingfishers  and  Bank-swallows,  in 
their  deep  holes  in  the  earth,  to  discern  one  of  their 
young  from  the  other. 


Instinctf 


Although  there  is  much  connected  with  this 
subject  that  we  cannot  understand,  there  are  cer- 
tain facts,  such  as  we  have  referred  to,  plain  to  ev-. 
ery  observer,  showing  a wonderful  correlation  of 
instinctive  action  between  the  parent  and  its  young. 

This  correlation  commences  immediately  on  the 
hatching  of  the  young  bird,  and  it  is  common  to 
thousands  of  kinds  of  birds,  under  a variety  of  con- 
ditions. 

Many  illustrations  of  the  same  principle  can  be 
found  among  the  invertebrate  animals ; and  with 
some  of  them,  this  principle  of  correlation  of  I i- 
stinct  is  of  wider  application, — a third  element  oft<‘n 
comes  in  to  act,  as  will  appear  in  considering  i:\e 
following  topics : 

1.  Instinct  of  animals  requiring  certain  change!-, 
in  other  kinds  of  animals,  or  in  plants,  for  the  com- 
pletion of  its  work, 

2.  The  peculiar  instinct  of  one  stage  of  being  as 
preparatory  to  another,  in  which  that  instinct  is  en- 
tirely lost ; as  in  the  case  of  many  insects. 

Every  plant  has  certain  relations  to  the  inorgan- 
ic world,  as  we  have  pointed  out  in  a previous  lec- 
ture. There  is  a correlation  of  its  changes  and 
developments,  both  as  to  time  and  conditions  e- 
quired  for  them,  with  the  changes  in  the  inor- 
ganic world. 

The  animal  kingdom,  as  a whole,  not  only  de- 
pends upon  the  vegetable,  but  it  is  fitted  to  the  vege-- 
table  kingdom,  in  many  respects,  as  that  is  related 
to  the  inorganic  world,.  Important  physiological 
changes  in  animals,  as  well  as  change  of  instinct,  or 


Changes  zvitJi  the  Season.  163 

rather  quickening  of  instinct  in  special  directions, 
correspond  with  certain  changes  in  the  vegetable 
kingdom  ; without  which,  these  changes  in  the  an- 
imals would  be  meaningless,  useless,  or  even  de- 
structive to  them. 

The  animals  th^jiibernate,  find  food,  such  as 
they  use,  most  abundant  in  the  fall ; and  at  the 
same  time,  there  seems  to  be  a physiological  change, 
by  which  the  animal  lays  up  an  extra  store  of  fat 
in  its  tissues,  to  keep  the  lamp  of  life  burning  dur- 
ing winter.  If  this  change  is  not  provided  for  in 
the  animal’s  system,  by  physiological  action,  then  he 
has  the  Instinct  to  hoard  fopd,  and  has  activity 
enough  in  winter  to  live  upon  it.  The  instincts  of 
migratory  birds,  change  with  the  season  ; some  of 
them  returning  while  snow  and  ice  are  abundant ; 
so  that  they  are  evidently  driven  north  by  a quick- 
ened instinct,  rather  than  enticed  by  green  fields 
and  sunny  skies. 

All  the  birds  bring  forth  their  young  at  that 
season  when  their  food  is  abundant,  and  when  there 
will  be  time  for  the  young  brood  tp  mature,  before 
the  change  of  season  can  make  its  demand  upon 
them.  The  wild  goose  must  make  her  way  to  the 
lakes  of  the  far  north,  in  season  to  rear  her  brood, 
and  have  them  full  fledged  and  strong  of  wing 
to  join  in  that  grand  procession  towards  the  south, 
in  autumn. 

All  these  adjustments,  by  which  the  animal 
kingdom  struggles  successfully’  for  existence,  de- 
pend upon  the  fact  that  the  quickening  of  func- 
tions, and  of  special  instincts  needful  to  carry  on 


164 


Instinct. 


the  work  to  completion,  correspond  with  the  changes 
in  the  inorganic  world  and  vegetable  kingdom. 

These  general  adaptations  of  living  things  to 
the  changes  of  the  earth,  and  the  correlation  of  the 
changes  among  the  different  orders  of  living  things 
are  much  more  common  and  marked  than  is  gener- 
ally supposed.  Every  change  seems  to  be  a part 
of  a series  of  machinery  adjusted  and  set  in  motion 
according  to  a plan ; and  such  a plan,  that  every 
wheel  must  move  with  a given  velocity,  and  start 
and  stop  at  a given  time,  or  loss  and  ruin  follow. 

But  in  addition  to  these  general  adaptations,  by 
which  all  beings  in  the  wor]|d  seem  to  be  more  or 
less  dependent  upon  others,  there  are  certain  spe- 
icial  relations  of  animals  to  plants  and  of  anii^als 
Ito  each  other,  secured  by  Instinct,  that  strike 
us  in  the  same  manner,  as  special  “Structure  in 
animals  and  plants  themselves.  There  is  a whole 
tribe  of  insects,  to  which  we  have  before  referred, 
that  make  galls  upon  plants,  or  check  the  growth 
of  the  axis  of  plants  in  some  peculiar  manner.  The 
Gall-fly  deposits  an  egg  upon  the  leaf  or  twig,  ac- 
cording to  her  habit ; and  then  her  work  ceases. 
Now  the  tree  takes  up  the  work — forms  a house  for 
the  young  insect  and  provides  it  with  food  ; until, 
at  last,  the  perfect  insect  makes  its  way  through 
the  walls  of  the  house,  into  the  open  air.  This  is 
an  entirely  different  thing  from  those  many  cases, 
where  the  egg  is  simply  deposited  so  that  the  young 
can  find  proper  food;  as  in  the  case  of  the  Tent- 
moth,  that  deposits  eggs  upon  Apple  or  Cherry 
twigs  ; or  of  the  Carrion-fly,  which  deposits  her  eggs 


Plants  as  Foster-parents^ 


165 


upon  flesh  or  fish.  The  action  of  securing  food,  in 
both  of  the  latter  cases,  is  entirely  on  the  part  of 
the  young  insects  ; that  is,  they  simply  eat  the  sub- 
stance as  they  find  it,  though  not  specially  prepared 
for  them,  as  the  Oak-gall  is,  for  its  inhabitant.  The 
Apple-trees  are  sufferers  only  in  the  loss  of  leaves 
destroyed,  before  they  have  done  their  work  for  the 
trees.  There  is  no  evidence  of  any  relation  of  the 
tree  to  the  insect,  except  as  being  its  appropriate 
food,  and  in  putting  out  its  leaves  at  the  right  time ; 
that  is,  before  the  eggs  of  the  insect  hatch.  But  in 
the  case  of  the  Oaks,  the  Roses,  the  Spruces  and 
Golden-rods,  and  many  other  plants,  there  is  a posi- 
tive marshalling  of  the  powers  of  the  plants  to  pro- 
vide both  food  and  lodging  for  the  young  insect. 
And  they  do  this  work  in  as  regular  a manner  as  they 
form  leaves  or  flowers. 

These  plants  act  as  foster-parents  ; and  in  sup- 
plementing the  work  of  the  parent  insect,  they  per- 
form the  exact  office  of  working  bees  in  the  Hon- 
ey-bee hive. 

* ^ There  are  ichneumon  insects,  and  parasitic  flies, 
that  sting  the  caterpillars  of  certain  moths,  but  do 
it  in  such  a way  that  the  caterpillar  lives  and  eats, 

\ until  his  enemies  have  come  to  maturity  at  the 
expense  of  his  life  ; or,  at  least,  of  his  power  to  rise 
into  a higher  life.  It  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  a 
collector  to  find  a caterpillar  bearing  numerous 
small  cocoons  ; — the  work  of  his  enemies,  that  have 
wasted  his  life, — or  to  open  a cocoon,  and  in  place 
of  the  chrysalis,  to  find  very  many  smaller  objects : 
the  young  of  insects,  which  have  been  provided  for 


Instinct, 


1 66 

by  the  joint  products  of  the  body  and  instinct  of 
the  cocoon-builder.  The  parasites  fed  upon  the 
chrysalis  of  the  insect,  and  they  were  protected,  dur- 
ing their  transformation,  by  the  cocoon  which  he 
had  prepared  for  his  own  transformation. 

The  common  Bot-fly  is  another  example  of  the 
dependence  of  one  animal  upon  another,  for  the 
completion  of  the  work,  which  its  Instinct  has  be- 
gun. This  fly  deposits  her  egg  upon  the  hair  of  the 
horse,  where  it  is  held  by  a glue  that  instantly  hard- 
ens. If  the  work  were  left  where  the  mother  leaves 
it,  there  would  soon  be  an  end  of  the  species.  But 
she  deposits  her  eggs,  instinctively,  on  such  parts 
of  the  body  of  the  horse  that  he  will  swallow  more 
or  less  of  them.  When  the  eggs  or  larvce  have 
reached  the  horse’s  stomach,  they  have  found  the 
proper  place  for  development, — a place  which  the  in- 
sect ’mother  cannot  reach,  and  having  no  connec- 
tion with  the  parts  where  the  eggs  are  deposited. 
But  the  fly,  as  though  understanding  the  whole 
process  and  the  calculation  of  chances,  puts  her 
eggs  in  such  a position,  that  enough  of  them  shall 
reach  their  place  of  development,  to  keep  the  spe- 
cies good. 

The  wonderful  processes  by  which  the  entozoa 
find  their  appropriate  place  of  development,  in  all 
their  stages  of  growth,  are  analogous  to  this  ; but  are 
too  intricate  for  use  here  as  illustrations. 

We  have  in  the  Bot-fly,  another  manifestation 
of  Instinct,  that  is  difficult  to  be  reconciled  with 
that  theory  which  resolves  it  into  fixed  habits  form- 
ed by  the  experience  of  past  "generations ; or  to 


6; 


Experience  not  its  Origin.  i 

tendencies  inherited  through  any  means.  The  egg 
is  deposited  by  the  mother,  and  she  soon  dies.  It 
is  then  removed  to  the  stomach  of  the  horse,  where 
it  wakes  to  life  and  spends  the  first  stage  of  its  ex- 
istence. It  has  never  had  any  connection  with  the 
leg  of  a horse,  except  as  an  egg.  Before  it  comes 
into  the  world,  to  act  as  a fly,  all  the  former  race 
of  Bot-flies  are  dead.  It  must  begin  its  work  for 
itself ; and  it  goes,  not  where  it  began  life,  for  that 
is  impossible  ; but,  to  the  place  where  it  was  depos- 
ited as  an  egg.  So  if  we  refer  Instinct,  in  this  case, 
to  experience  in  the  present  race  or  past  races,  the 
experience  begun  and  treasured  up,  must  have  be- 
gun in  the  egg ! 

We  have  a multitude  of  examples,  of  instinct 
of  this  kind,  which  moves  on  changing,  as  the  young 
changes  from  the  egg  to  maturity ; with  no  paren- 
tal care  to  aid  it,  and  no  parental  example  for  imi- 
tation. 

The  eggs  of  the  Tent-moth  are  its  only  repre- 
sentatives in  the  spring  of  the  year.  But  the  thou- 
sands of  young  insects  from  these  eggs,  all  start  off 
in  the  work  of  feeding  and  web-weaving  and  migra- 
ting from  the  web,  and  cocoon  building,  just  as  all 
others  of  the  same  kind  have  done  every  year  be- 
fore. And  yet,  no  parent  has  ever  seen  its  young, 
and  no  young  has  ever  seen  a parent,  or  any  of  its 
works. 

The  Oak-pruners  deposit  their  eggs  on  the 
branches  of  the  oak  ; and  the  young  insect  grows 
and  cares  for  itself  until  the  proper  time  comes  for 
its  transformation.  Then  it  cuts  the  limb  between 


Instinct. 


1 68 

itself  and  the  tree,  so  that  its  branch  may  fall  to  the 
earth,  where  it  goes  through  its  transformations. 
All  the  thousands  do  exactly  the  same  things,  as 
all  previous  generations  have  done  before  them. 

The  Apple-tree  Borer  deposits  her  egg  in  the 
bark  and  there  leaves  it.  The  Borer  mines  in  the 
wood,  feeding  and  growing  for  months.  But  be- 
fore the  time  of  transformation,  it  prepares  its  hole, 
so  that  it  can  easily  escape  into  a world,  where  it 
has  never  been,  and  from  which,  up  to  that  time, 
it  has  tried  to  escape.  It  has  never  seen  the  outer 
world  nor  known  a parent’s  care,  nor  one  of  its 
kind  ; but  it  comes  forth  fitted  for  its  work,  not  only 
by  structure  but  by  Instinct  to  guide, — to  guide  it 
perfectly,  in  entirely  new  relations  to  the  world,  and 
in  the  use  of  organs  it  never  before  possessed. 
The  being  bursts  into  life  with  nothing  to  learn, 
fully  prepared  to  act  its  part, — and  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  that  it  should  be  thus  provided  for ; be- 
cause it  has  neither  the  time  nor  the  conditions  for 
obtaining  its  needful  knowledge,  as  intelligent  be- 
ings must  obtain  theirs. 

It  is  plain,  from  these  cases  and  the  hundreds 
like  them,  which  might  be  cited,  that  animals  come 
into  the  world  with  all  their  instinctive  capacities 
ready  for  action,  the  instant  they  are  needed.  And 
this  instinctive  outfit,  being  essential  at  once  to  the 
continuance  of  life,  could  not  have  been  acquired  by 
any  changes  resulting  from  experience  or  observa- 
tion, by  themselves  or  their  ancestors. 

The  instinct  of  the  young  is  supplemented,  in 
many  cases,  it  is  true,  by  the  instinct  of  the  parent. 


Preservation  of  the  Fittest.  169 

But  in  those  species,  where  the  young  is  thrown 
upon  the  world  without  a parent’s  care,  its  Instinct 
is  sufficient  to  guide  it,  the  instant  it  is  hatched. 
And  the  Instinct  develops  as  a guide  to  the  ani- 
mal, just  as  his  organs  become  fitted  for  action. 
The  Instinct,  in  every  case,  changes  as  the  condi- 
tions of  life  change  by  development ; whether  the 
changes  are  gradual  or  sudden, — ^ that  the  most 
complex  and  wonderful  manifestations  of  these  orig- 
inal principles  of  action,  are  found  among  the 
lower  tribes  of  the  animal  kingdom.  Multitudes 
of  insects  commence  life  in  the  earth  and  in  the 
water.  Some  of  them  spend  years,  mining  in  the 
ground,  or  hiding  among  the  rocks  and  mud  of 
brooks  and*  lakes.  They  have  organs  and  instincts 
that  fit  them  for  such  life.  But  the  day  comes, 
when  they  suddenly  pass  to  a higher  life  of  the  air. 
There  is  oftentim’es  as  complete  change  of  instincts, 
as  of  organs, — but  both  are  just  fitted  for  the  new 
life  of  their  possessor ; each  supplementing  the  other. 
The  machine  and  guiding  power  are  ready  at  the 
same  time. 

When,  now,  appeal  is  made  to  the  ^'■preservation 
of  the  fittest  f amidst  infinite  ^variation  of  forms,  as 
accounting  for  the  present  perfection  of  relation 
among  all  these  beings,  to  each  other,  and  to  the 
world,  in  which  they  live,  we  reply,  as  in  a former 
lecture,  that  we  are  in  want  of  some  fitness  to 
begin  with  ; before  there  can  be  variation,  and  the 
“ fittest  ” be  preserved.  Preservation  is  one  thing, — 
the  production  of  something  to  be  preserved,  is  an- 
8 


170 


Instinct. 


other, — especially,  where  the  thing  preserved  can 
be  preserved  only  by  means  of  its  own  characteris- 
tics— through  its  own  struggle  for  existence. 

We  are  now  prepared  to  see  in  what  respect 
histinct  is  a law  for  the  animal. 

We  have  seen  from  our  discussions  thus  far,  that 
something  must  be  given  to  every  animal  as  its  out- 
fit in  starting  in  the  world.  There  must  be  not 
only  impulse,  but  there  must  be  a certain  amount 
of  knowledge  and  skill  possessed  by  the  animal, 
when  it  comes  into  the  world,  just  as  necessarily 
as  it  must  have  a stomach  and  lungs.  If  any  object 
to  the  terms,  knowledge  and  skill,  because  the  ca- 
pabilities are  not  acquired,  they  cannot  deny  the  ex- 
istence in  animals  of  these  capabilities,  that  take 
the  place  of  acquired  knowledge  and  skill  among 
men. 

I conceive  that  the  knowledge  and  skill,  which 
the  young  animal  comes  into  the  world  with,  differ 
no  more  from  that  which  he  gains  in  after  life,  from 
experience,  than  his  stomach  and  lungs  at  the  first 
moment  of  life  differ  from  the  same  organs  after 
they  have  grown  by  the  process  of  taking  food. 
The  young  animal  comes  into  the  world  with  organs 
all  fitted  for  a certain  work,  and  with  knowledge 
and  skill  to  fit  him  for  that  work, — that  is,  to  main- 
tain his  place  in  the  world.  Nature  seems  to  give 
him,  at  birth,  as  little  as  possible  of  both  bodily  and 
mental  powers  ; using  the  word  mental  as  including 
all  the  activities  involving  volition.  But  she  acts 
wisely,  and  gives  the  animal  bodily  and  mental 
powers  sufficient  for  the  conditions  in  which  it 


Uniformity  mnong  Animals.  171 

first  wakes  to  life.  If  it  is  to  have  a parent’s  care, 
then  it  has  powers  of  body  and  mind  just  sufficient 
to  supplement  the  parent’s  labors.  If  it  is  one  of  a 
race  which  never  see  their  parents,  then  it  has 
greater  gifts  to  begin  with ; and  fights  its  own  bat- 
tles, from  the  first  moment  of  conscious  existence. 
It  knows  how  to  meet  any  emergency  and  perform 
every  needful  work,  as  well  as  though  instructed  in 
the  best  polytechnicf^hools,  and  aided  by  a centu- 
ry of  experience. 

When  we  consider  the  whole  history  of  animals, 
one  of  the  first  things  that  strikes  us,  is  the  great 
uniformity  that  appears  among  those  of  the  same 
kind,  when  left  to  the^mselves  under  favoring  condi- 
tions. When  we  compare  animals  with  the  human 
^species,  we  see  a uniformity  in  all  the  manifesta- 
tions of  being,  on  the  one  side,  that  could  be  secured 
only  by  a controlling  fo\-ce,  uniform  in  its  nature 
and  operations  in  each  species ; and  on  the  other, 
a diversity,  that  seems  to  originate  from  a force 
having  some  peculiarity  in  every  individual  case. 
It  is  a matter  of  great  interest  to  trace  the  cause 
of  this  uniformity  on  the  one  hand,  and  of  this  di- 
versity, on  the  other ; and  to  this  investigation  the 
remaining  lectures  will  be  chiefly  devoted. 

But  for  the  present  we  wish  to  consider  briefly 
the  uniformity  of  individuals  in  the  same  species  of 
animials  ; and  leave  the  question  of  diversity  among 
men,  even  of  the  same  family,  for  future  considera- 
tion, when  we  have  more  materials  bearing  upon 
the  subject. 

We  have  already  seen  that  Instinct,  in  its  sim- 


1/2 


Instmct. 


plest  form,  supplements  structure  and  function ; 
and  that  Instinct  varies  in  every  animal,  as  the 
structure  and  function  of  his  organs  change.  These 
three  elements  then  being  the  same  in  thousand? 
of  individuals  of  the  same  species,  we  shall  have  a 
constant  resultant  in  each  one  of  them,  unless  ex- 
ternal circumstances  come  in  as  a disturbing  ele- 
ment. These  three  elements  are  so  strong  in  their 
combined  action,  in  every  animal,  that  they  shape 
his  life, — experience  is  not  able  to  turn  him  from 
the  course  along  which  they  impel  him.  Experi- 
ence may  do  much  for  the  higher  animals, — it  may 
keep  them  from  danger,  add  to  their  enjoyment  of 
life  and  improve  them  in  many  ways ; but  it  can 
never  turn  them  from  that  course,  along  which  the 
functions  of  organs  and  the  original  impulse  and 
guidance  of  Instinct,  carry  them. 

We  see  nothing  in  animals  of  the  same  species, 
that  renders  them  unlike  each  other  in  following 
the  impulses  arising  from  the  function  of  their  or- 
gans.— The  animal  seems,  in  this  respect,  to  be  pas- 
sive in  the  formation  of  its  controlling  impulses ; 
and  he  follows  the  great  impulses  of  his  nature, 
freely,  and  without  consideration  of  the  remote 
consequences.  That  nature  of  the  animal,  which 
leads  him  to  take  into  consideration  only  the  pres- 
ent, the  surrounding  circumstances  for  the  moment, 
will  secure  a uniformity  not  to  be  expected  in  man, 
who  brings  in  to  modify  every  activity,  the  memo- 
ry of  the  past,  the  accumulated  experience  of  men 
in  all  ages,  and  the  expectation  of  the  future,  with 
all  its  uncertainties,  which  never  can  affect  an  ani- 


173 


Influence  of  Experience, 

mal,  since  they  cannot  be  comprehended  by  him 
Just  in  proportion  as  we  find  men  leaving  out  of 
consideration  the  experience  of  the  past  and  the 
prospects  of  the  future,  do  we  find  almost  a brute- 
like uniformity  of  action  among  them  ; as  is  seen 
in  the  lowest  savage  tribes;  and  just  in  proportion 
as  we  see  among  animals,  any  mingling  of  the  mem- 
ories of  the  past  with  their  present  impressions,  do 
we  see  a want  of  uniform  action  among  members 
of  the  same  species.  All  that  we  can  then  say  is, 
that  in  animals,  structure,  function,  and  that  part 
of  Instinct  which  supplements  them,  are  so  strong 
that  they  move  on  together,  giving  the  same  re- 
sults in  all  animals  of  the  same  species  ; or  so  near- 
the  same  results,  that  the  changes  produced  in 
instinctive  life  by  experience,  as  peculiar  to  each 
animal,  are  as  the  perturbations  of  the  planets  in 
their  course,  so  small  that  they  do  not  interfere 
with  the  general  result ; and  unless  the  perturba- 
tion occurs  in  the  same  quarter  and  is  often  repeat- 
ed, it  never  accumulates  to  a sum  sufficient  to  at- 
tract attention,  except  by  the  most  careful  inspec- 
tion. We  speak  now  of  animals  in  their  free  state  ; 
and  not  of  that  abnormal  condition  to  which  the 
influence  of  man  may  reduce  them. 

The  result  is  uniform,  because  all  the  influences 
of  experience  are,  with  animals,  mainly  subordinate 
to  that  high  wisdom,  which  we  call  Instinct ; a wis- 
dom given  to  the  animal  for  his  guidance,  doing 
the  work  which  the  human  race  can  do  only  by 
hard  experience  and  patient  thought.  When  will 
man  reach  Jike  uniform  and  happy  results  for  him 


174 


Instinct, 


self,  through  that  free  Intelligence,  by  which  he 
must  guide  himself,  or  fall  below  the  brutes  ? 

As  a means  of  rendering  results  almost  mechan- 
ically uniform  among  animals,  even  when  they  fol- 
low their  impulses,  we  find  the  most  important 
functions  only  periodically  active  ; and  so  far  as  we 
know,  no  harm  comes  to  one  animal  more  than  to  an- 
other, while  in  his  natural  state,  from  following  the 
impulse  of  his  appetites  to  the  full  extent  of  their 
demand.  He  can  be  deceived,  as  we  shall  show; 
but  he  is  injured  by  being  deceived,  thus  gratifying 
his  appetite  on  the  wrong  substance,  and  not  be- 
cause he  indulged  his  appetite  to  too  great  an  ex- 
tent. 

In  man,  the  appetites  have  but  a slight  self-reg- 
ulating power, — they  need  control  and  restraint  from 
their  possessor, — while  among  animals  they  are  per- 
fectly self-regulating  by  the  periodicity  and  strength 
of  the  functions  that  originate  them.  And  as  in- 
stinctive action,  so  far  as  the  appetites  are  concern- 
ed, simply  supplements  function,  of  course  it  never 
goes  beyond  the  proper  bound  ; because  the  appe- 
tite gives  it  no  occasion  for  going  beyond  that 
bound. 

What  we  mean  then  when  we  say  that  Instinct 
is  a law  for  the  animal  is,  that  those  original  princi- 
ples of  action  in  him,  which  were  given  as  his  first 
outfit  in  life,  always  control  him  in  the  main ; expe- 
rience doing  but  little  in  directing  the  course  of  life, 
though  it  may  do  much  in  conducting  it  to  a suc- 
cessful issue  in  that  course.  The  instinctive  prin- 
ciples guide  the  animal  in  its  action,  to  that  which 


Impulses  Independent  of  Organization.  175 

is  in  harmony  with  his  physical  constitution, — to 
the  true  end  of  his  being, — or  if  they  lead  the  indi- 
vidual to  injury,  it  is  for  the  benefit  of  the  species. 

But  although  Instinct  gives  great  uniformity  of 
results,  it  is  not  perfect ; that  is,  it  is  not  infallible. 
It  may  be  deceived,  and  so  deceived  as  to  cause 
the  destruction  of  its  possessor.  The  impression 
often  prevails,  that  Instinct  is,  in  some  cases  at  least, 
an  impulse  that  leads  to  the  right  action  directly ; 
without  the  secondary  aid  of  the  senses.  The  im- 
pulses that  lead  animals  to  perform  certain  opera- 
tions, as  migrating,  and  the  storing  of  food  for  winter, 
are  perhaps  of  this  nature ; though  a more  careful 
examination  of  the  subject  may  enable  us  to  trace, 
even  here,  some  direct  relation  between  changes  in 
nature  and  the  act  of  the  animal.  But  so  far  as 
our  present  knowledge  goes,  the  action  of  birds  in 
migration,  and,  especially,  the  action  of  fishes,  like 
the  Salmon,  that  pass  from  the  ocean  to  fresh  water 
to  spawn ; and  also  the  action  of  animals  which  lay  up 
stores  of  food  for  winter, — all  these,  and  like  action 
of  animals,  seem  to  originate  from  some  impulse 
arising  from  their  organization,  independently  of 
the  senses.  And  if  we  say  that  the  impulse  is  pro- 
duced by  some  relation  of  the  external  world  to  the 
animal’s  organism,  still,  we  have  this  fact  remaining, 
— his  always  doing  a specific  thing  involving  con- 
trivance,— to  be  accounted  for.  Even  if  we  grant 
that  the  Salmon  remember  that  they  were  hatched 
in  the  river,  we  have  still  to  account  for  their  going 
back  there  to  deposit  their  eggs ; and  for  their  de- 


1/6 


Instinct. 


positing  them  in  their  proper  places,  caring  for  them 
as  all  other  Salmon  have  done  before  ; although  not 
one  of  them  ever  saw  the  work  done,  as  must  be 
the  case  when  a stream  is  stocked,  for  the  first  time, 
by  eggs  carried  there  from  some  other  place.  But 
in  general,  we  can  trace  the  direct  relation  between 
the  instinctive  act  and  the  impression  made  upon 
some  sense.  In  all  cases,  where  the  acts  depend 
upon  the  impressions  made  upon  the  senses,  the 
act  is  performed  when  the  impression  is  made  ; and 
in  accordance  with  the  impression,  although  the 
impression  maybe  made  in  such  away  as  to  entire- 
ly deceive  the  animal. ) There  is  in  must  animals, 
certainly  in  some  of  them,  very  great  power  of  dis- 
cerning through  the  senses  those  characteristics 
that  are  desirable  or  undesirable  in  an  object ; 
but  when  you  imitate,  in  any  way,  those  character- 
istics, they  act.  Hence  arise  many  cases  of  appar- 
ent reasoning,  that  are  nothing  more  than  the  vari- 
ation of  the  action  of  Instinct  to  secure  a given  re- 
lation of  the  animal  to  the  world  around  him. 

Flies  lay  eggs  upon  the  Carrion-plant,*  because 
its  odor  has  the  same  relation  to  their  sense  of  smell, 
as  the  odor  of  putid  flesh,  upon  which  their  young  can 
feed  ; but  they  make  a mistake,  because  their  young 
cannot  live  upon  the  flower.  Very  young  birds, 
when  any  sound  is  made  upon  the  edge  of  the  nest, 
open  their  bills, — as  readily  to  the  boy  that  comes 
to  rob  the  nest,  as  to  the  mother  that  comes  to  feed 
them . The  instmctive  act^  essential  to  life^  is  linked  to 
the  sensation  of  sound.  The  hen  is  cheated  by  the 


* Kirby.  Bridg.  Treat. 


Mistakes  of  Instinct, 


1/7 


crystal  of  salt  which  is  poison  to  her,  and  eats  it, 
mistaking  it  for  the  grain  of  quartz,  that  is  neces- 
sary to  her,  for  the  process  of  digestion.  Here  the 
Instinct  of  eating  gravel,  which  is  very  curious  in 
itself,  is  linked  to  a certain  impression  upon  the 
sense  of  sight. 

The  whole  process  of  cheating  animals  to  cap- 
ture them,  depends  upon  the  fact  that  the  purely, 
instinctive  notions  of  the  animal,  arise  from  a certain 
relation  of  external  objects  to  its  senses  j,  as  truly 
as  those  notions  that  may  come  to  it  in  conse- 
quence of  experience.  The  sense  of  smell  is  the 
occasion  of  mistake  by  the  fly ; the  sense  of  sight, 
of  mistake  by  the  fowl,  when  she  swallows  salt  in- 
stead of  gravel ; and  she  is  deceived  by  the  sense 
of  hearing,  when  she  hides  at  the  cry,  like  that  of 
the  hawk,  though  the  sound  may  be  made  by  a 
mocking-bird,  or  by  man.  These  are  only  exam- 
ples ; many  of  which  will  occur  to  every  observer. 
Those  given  are  enough  to  show  that  Instinct  does 
not  correct  the  senses,  or  render  them  more  acute ; 
but  that  instinctive  acts,  such  as  we  have  mention- 
ed, always  have  a certain  relation  to  the  impres- 
sions made  upon  the  senses.  Many  of  the  mis- 
takes of  Instinct,  so  called,  are  the  indications  that 
we  have  in  many  acts,  especially  among  the  higher 
animals,  something  more  than  Instinct, — at  least,  a 
limited  range  of  that  principle  of  Intelligence  be- 
longing peculiarly  to  man,  which  works  out  the 
noblest  results,  but  is  liable  to  mistakes,  until  ren- 
dered safe  in  its  action  by  long  experience. 

If  Instinct  is  the  controller  of  animal  activity, 
8* 


178 


Instinct. 


the  question  naturally  arises,  How  far,  and  under 
what  conditions  is  it  subject  to  variation  ? 

There  is  a tendency  in  almost  all  plants  and  an- 
imals, if  not  in  all,  to  vary  from  one  exact  type, 
giving  rise  to  varieties.  The  extent  to  which  this 
variation  may  go,  is  at  present  one  of  the  disputed 
points  among  naturalists,  and  one  which  it  is  very 
difficult  to  settle.  All  readily  acknowledge  that 
species  vary  so  as  to  give  . a multitude  of  varie- 
ties ; as  in  the  case  of  the  common  apple  and  oth- 
er cultivated  fruits;  while  some  hold  to  the  dis- 
tinct origin  of  species  themselves,  and  others  re- 
gard them  as  simply  permanent,  well  marked  va- 
rieties. 

Without  entering  into  this  discussion  fully, 
which  our  present  purpose  does  not  require,  there 
are  certain  things  in  regard  to  this  variation  of 
species,  upon  which  most  naturalists  seem  to  be 
agreed. 

1.  Variation  may  take  place  in  any  plant  or  an- 
imal in  a manner  and  from  causes  quite  beyond 
our  comprehension ; that  is,  apparently  from  some 
original  constitution  of  the  being. 

2.  Rapid  variation  is  in  general,  most  common 
among  the  higher  groups  of  plants  and  animals; 
especially  among  those  most  useful  to  man. 

3.  When  the  process  of  variation  has  com- 
menced in  any  kind,  we  naturally  expect  from  our 
observation,  that  instances  of  variation  in  that  kind 
will  become  increasingly  common. 

This  may  explain  the  reason  for  our  finding  so 
much  variation  among  our  best  cultivated  plants 


Qualities  of  Inst  met. 


179 


and  domestic  animals.  They  have  been  under  the 
influence  of  man  so  long,  and  so  many  new  forms 
have  been  preserved,  that  permanent  characteristics 
are  not  to  be  e'xJpected ; as  in  nature,  where  only 
those  types  are  preserved,  which  can  fight  their 
own  battles  in  the  world. 

4.  There  is  a tendency  for  any  characteristic, 
brought  out  by  variation,  to  be  propagated  and 
finally  to  become  fixed,  so  that  it  is  sure  to  appear 
in  the  young  of  the  parent  possessing  that  charac- 
teristic. 

The  tendency  to  exhibit  peculiar  characteris- 
tics, is,  perhaps,  most  marked,  or,  at  least,  most 
noticeable,  in  respect  to  s^ize  and  color.  But  there 
are  great  variations  in  the  super-sensuous  nature  of 
animals.  Docility,  viciousness,  stupidity,  and  most 
other  characteristics,  that  we  see  in  different  de- 
grees among  men,  we  also  see  in  different  degrees, 
among  animals  of  the  same  species.  And  these 
characteristics  are  as  likely  to  be  transmitted,  as  is 
peculiarity  of  form  or  color. 

But  docility,  vicionsness  and  stupidity  are  not 
instincts  at  all.  They  simply  mark  qualities  of  the 
instincts,  or  their  degree  of  perfection ; if  they  can 
be  referred  to  Instinct  at  all.  We  believe  that 
those  qualities  belong  chiefly,  if  not  wholly,  to  In- 
telligence, or  the  capacity  of  the  animal  to  under- 
stand the  relation  of  his  acts  as  means  to  ends. 
Certain  it  is,  that  by  training  and  care  in  selection, 
we  can  secure  habits  or  tendencies  in  breeds  of  an- 
imals, as  well  as  we  can  secure  difference  of  form. 
In  this  respect,  we  see  no  difference  between  men 


i8o 


Instmct. 


and  animals.  Men  vary  in  the  powers  of  mind, — 
even  members  of  the  same  family  are  often  quite 
unlike  in  temper,  taste  and  ability.  But  we  do  not 
speak  of  this  difference  among  men,  as  any  proof 
that  one  possesses  powers,  in  kind,  that  the  other 
does  not  possess ; but  that  one  possesses  a degree 
of  power  and  quality  of  temper  which  the  other 
does  not  have. 

There  has  been  much  confusion  in  reasoning, 
in  regard  to  the  super-sensuous  nature  of  animals, 
because  so  many  have  decided,  at  the  outset,  that 
they  are  here  in  a field  entirely  different  from  that 
found  in  the  study  of  man ; and  because  qualities 
of  powers  or  faculties,  have  been  treated  as  new 
powers,  or  as  something  having  a tendency  to  pro- 
duce new  powers.  Qualities  may  give  the  being 
new  power,  but  not  new  powers  or  faculties.  The 
new  power  comes  from  the  better  use  and  greater 
strength  of  old  powers. 

But  in  addition  to  these  qualities  that  make  a 
difference  between  individuals  of  the  same  species, 
and  which  vary  in  the  same  individual,,  in  different 
periods  of  life,  we  have  taught  in  these  lectures, 
that  Instinct  varies  in  its  manifestations  in  the  same 
individual  to  meet  the  different  conditions  of  life ; 
as  plants  vary  by  the  law  of  their  growth,  for  the 
same  purpose.  That  original  impulse,  knowledge 
and  skill,  which  are  possessed  by  the  animal  with- 
out experience,  and  which  we  have  called  INSTINCT, 
are  excited  to  action  by  the  circumstances  in  which 
the  animal  is  placed.  It  often  happens,  that  an 
animal  is  so  situated  that  it  lives  easily  by  the  ex- 


Variation  of  Instinct,  i8i 

ercise  of  only  a part  of  this  original  gift ; while  a 
change  of  circumstances  will  instantly  call  the  rest 
of  the  knowledge  and  skill  into  play.  Those  who 
see  the  change  for  the  first  time,  wonder  at  what 
seems  to  them  manifestations  of  wisdom  on  the 
part  of  the  actor.  Mistakes  have  been  made  in 
the  study  of  animals,  from  want  of  careful  observa- 
tion in  regard  to  the  nature  and  conditions  of  such 
changes  in  instinctive  action. 

It  is  probable  that  instincts  may  be  strength- 
ened in  certain  directions,  and  weakened  in  others, 
and  changed  in  quality.  If  this  cannot  be  done  di- 
rectly, it  certainly  can  be  done  indirectly,  by  affect- 
ing the  functions  of  the  body,  which  are  the  chief 
agencies  in  bringing  the  instincts  into  play,  and  af- 
fecting their  strength  and  quality. 

There  is  great  plasticity  in  the  organic  and  su- 
per-sensuous part  of  the  lower  tribes  even  ; sufficient 
to  give  them  a fair  chance  in  the  world  ; and  when 
we  come  to  the  higher  animals,  we  have  a still 
greater  plasticity  of  nature;  so  that  qualities  and 
habits  can  be  secured  and  transmitted,  as  tenden- 
cies at  least,  from  one  generation  to  another. 

This  is  so  well  understood  by  breeders  that  they 
will,  in  time,  secure  almost  any  form  or  color  which 
they  desire, — not  because  they  have  any  power  to 
change  these  directly,  but  because  they  take  advan- 
tage of  the  tendency  in  all  animals  to  vary  and  to 
inherit  the  peculiarities  of  parents.  In  like  man- 
ner, any  peculiar  manifestation  of  an  instinct  can  be 
fixed  by  selection  in  breeding.  The  breeder  is  at- 
tracted by  some  habit  of  an  animal,  which  would 


I82 


Instinct. 


be  desirable.  That  is  to  him  a hint.  That  ani- 
mal is  preserved  ; and  the  chances  are  that  some 
of  its  young  will  manifest  the  same  characteristics, 
perhaps  in  an  increased  degree.  The  selection 
goes  on  in  this  direction  for  generations, — every 
thing  in  other  directions  being  rejected  and  every 
thing  in  that  direction  being  preserved, — until  the 
peculiar  characteristic  is  fixed  ; sure  to  appear  in 
every  one  of  the  variety  or  breed.  This  may  ex- 
plain the  difference  between  Shepherd-dogs,  Point- 
ers, Bull-dogs  and  other  breeds.  It  is  not  certain 
however,  that  all  our  dogs  came  from  the  same 
original  stock. 

It  is  to  be  noticed  that  this  variation  in  Instinct, 
is  according  to  a definite  plan.  Change  of  Instinct 
in  strength  or  quality,  seems  to  be  accompanied 
with  a corresponding  change  of  structure.  The  two 
move  on  together,  by  some  inscrutable  law.  The 
savage  temper  of  the  Bull-dog  is  accompanied  with 
a ponderous  jaw  and  enormou-s  strength  of  muscle. 
The  keen  scent  of  the  Blood-hound  and  the  struc- 
ture for  running  all  harmonize  with  his  instinct  for 
following  the  prey.  The  Spaniel  and  Newfound- 
land dog  readily  take  to  the  water ; and  their  web- 
feet  fit  them  for  this  element. 

The  Instinct,  which  leads  the  fowl  to  sit  upon 
her  eggs,  is  always  connected  with  a peculiar  phys- 
iological change  in  the  body.  That  change  seems 
first  to  awaken  the  instinct  and  bring  it  into  play. 
There  is  an  unnatural  heat  of  the  body, — a change 
in  the  temper  of  the  fowl,  and  a disregard  of  dan- 
ger In  fact,  the  whole  nature  of  the  animal  seems 


ConnectioJt  with  Fimction. 


183 


to  be  changed  by  some  law  of  its  being,  as  its  feath- 
ers grow  or  drop  off,  at  particular  seasons.  This 
physiological  change  and  the  manifestation  of  the 
instinct  to  brood,  come  after  a certain  number  of 
eggs  are  laid,  called  a '■'nestF  But  it  has  been  found 
that  these  ^^nests  ” vary  in  number ; and  by  continued 
selections,  breeds  have  been  secured  that  never 
brood.  The  valuable  characteristic  of  constantly 
producing  eggs,  is  secured  ; but  there  would  be  the 
loss  of  the  breed,  were  it  not  for  the  care  of  man. 

In  consequence  of  the  abnormal  conditions,  to 
which  domestic  animals  are  subjected,  we  must  ex- 
pect great  confusion  in  the  manifestations  of  their 
natural  habits.  There  are  great  modifications  of 
Instinct,  as  we  find  among  dogs,  modifications  of 
the  original  Instinct,  in  particular  directions,  inten- 
sified by  habit  and  rendered  constant  by  careful 
breeding.  There  is  no  more  difference  in  the  In- 
stinct of  the  different  kinds  of  dogs,  then  there  is  in 
their  structure.  And  as  all  the  different  forms  of 
dogs  are  seen  to  be  modifications  of  one  type,  so 
their  instincts  appear  to  be  modifications  of  the  nor- 
mal instincts  seen  among  those  dogs  which  are  sup- 
posed to  be  near  the  original  type. 

The  relation  of  function  to  Instinct  is  much  more 
intimate  than  is  generally  supposed,  so  that  the  ac- 
tion of  one  may  be  mistaken  for  that  of  the  other. 
The  wonderful  instinct  of  the  hound  is  often  refer- 
red to  as  enabling  him  to  track  his  prey,  even  upon 
the  dry  earth.  It  is  not  Instinct,  at  all,  that  enables 
him  to  do  this.  It  is  function, — the  delicacy  of  the 
organ  of  smelling.  He  has  the  Instinct  to  follow  his 


184 


Instinct, 


prey,  as  the  common  dogs  have,  but  he  is  able  to 
follow  his  prey  when  they  are  baffled,  only  by  a 
more  delicate  function  of  one  special  sense.  In- 
stinct leads  the  common  dog  to  hunt  for  his  mas- 
ter’s track ; but  it  is  function  that  enables  him  to 
find  it. 

All  the  reciprocal  influences  of  structure,  fu-nc- 
tion  and  Instinct  on  the  being,  under  the  varied 
conditions  to  which  our  domestic  animals  are  sub- 
jected, W‘iTl  never  be  understood  until  they  have 
been  studied  long,  with  great  care.  It  is  in  this 
field  of  observation,  that  we  look  for  the  most  in- 
teresting results,  in  determining  the  limits  ofvaria- 
tion  in  the  whole  structure  and  nature  of  the  ani- 
mal. Conceding  the  great  changes  that  have  taken 
place  in  the  modifying  of  forms  and  Instincts,  we 
see  nothing  yet  that  indicates  the  production  of  a 
new  Instinct ; and  we  can  never  be  sure  that  an  in- 
stinct is  lost  simply  because  it  does  not  act.  An 
instinct  may  lie  dormant  for  generations  because 
there  is  no  occasion  for  its  activity  ; but  sheep  warn 
their  fellows  of  danger,  and  cows  hide  their  calves 
when  the  occasion  comes  for  calling  the  old  instincts 
into  play.  And  the  calf,  stupid  as  he  is,  knows  his 
part  of  the  performance  in  hiding,  as  well  as  though 
trained  in  the  best  schools ! 

We  have  thus  seen  the  wide  application  of  these 
spontaneous  activities.  They  increase  in  number 
and  complexity  according  to  the  nature  of  the  be- 
ings in  which  they  appear.  They  appear  when 
they  are  needed,  and  they^  pass  away  when  there  is 
no  longer  use  for  them.  They  save  the  individual 


Dejinitions. 


i8S 


and  the  species  ; and  this  they  do  by  working  won- 
ders; but  if  they  did  not  perform  these  wonders; 
the  species  could  not  exist,  as  they  are. 

Each  step  makes  it  plainer  to  us,  that  we  have 
not  here  a distinct  principle  or  an  agent,  as  Hamil- 
ton calls  it ; ^ but  that  "ajt  Instinct  is  simply  an  iin~ 
pulse  to  a particular  kind  of  voluntary  action  zvhich 
the  being  needs  to  perform  as  an  individual  or  represen- 
tative  of  a species ; but  which  he  could  not  possibly 
learji  to  perform  before  he  yieeds  to  act.  And  the  gen- 
eral term,  INSTINCT,  includes  all  the  original  impulses^ 
— excepting  the  Appetites^ — and  that  knowledge  and 
skill,  with  which  ariimals  are  e^idowed — which  experi- 
ence may  call  into  exercise,  but  which  it  does  7iot  give. 

All  of  these  are  given  to  an  animal  in  proportion 
to  his  need — according  to  the  conditions  under 
which  he  is  to  start  in  life;  and  not  at  alHin  pro- 
portion to  his  rank  in  the  scale  of  being.  And  all 
attempts  to  fix  the  rank  of  an  animal  by  means  of 
the  number  and  perfection  of  those  principles  of 
action,  utterly  fail.  It  is  just  as  logical  to  argue 
that  a Sea-urchin  is  nearly  allied  to  man  in  structure, 
because  his  spines  have  ball  and  socket  joints,  like 
the  limbs  of  man,  as  to  argue  that  an  animal  is  near 
man  in  Intelligence,  because  his  instinctive  acts 
imitate  the  intelligent  acts  of  man. 

If  we  accept  the  account  thus  far  given  of  the 
nature  of  instinctive  acts,  we  must  be  prepared  to 
recognize  Intelligence  as  reaching  much  lower  in 
the  scale  of  being  than  it  has  generally  been  sup- 
posed that  it  does.  And  by  intelligence,  we  mean 


Metaphysics,  Bowen’s  Ed.,  p.  505. 


Instinct, 


1 86 

here,  simply,  the  power  in  the  actor  of  comprehend- 
ing ends  as  desirable,  and  his  own  acts  as  means 
to  secure  those  ends.  Intelligence  carries  on  the 
work  by  experience  which  was  begun  by  Instinct. 
An  intelligent  act  can  be  distinguished  from  an  in- 
stinctive act  only  by  the  conditions  under  which  it 
is  performed.  They  may  both  be  exactly  the  same 
in  form  and  in  their  relation  to  ends. 


LECTURE  VIII. 


HIGHER  CHARACTER  OF  ANIMALS. — ANIMALS  COM- 
PARED  WITH  MAN. 

Knowledge  from  Experience. — Do  animals  think? — Definition  of 
thinking. — Conditions  of  the  act  to  be  studied. — Difficulty  of  the 
work. — Coridition  of  the  animal. — Physical  structure  and  growth 
in  Men  and  Animals. — The  Senses  in  both. — Physiological  like- 
ness.— Capacity  of  Animals  for  Pain  and  Enjoyment. — Psycho- 
logical effects  of  sensations  in  Animals. — Fear,  Anger,  Joy,  Grief, 
Shame. — The  Desires. — AEsthetic  nature  of  Animals. — Animals 
learn  by  expenence. — Their  actions  compared  with  those  of  man. — 
Taming  and  trapping  Animals. — Memory  of  Animals. — Dream- 
ing. — Summary  of  the  Argument. — Instinct  the  controlling  pow- 
er.— The  Rights  of  Animals. 


Animals  are  plainly  guided  by  some  principle  of 
voluntary  action,  which  secures  complicated  results 
necessary  for  their  well-being,  before  they  can  have 
experience,  or  instruction.  These  voluntary  activ- 
ities, rising  above  the  functional  activities,  but 
working  in  harmony  with  them,  without  experience, 
or  instruction,  on  the  part  of  their  possessor,  secure 
the  welfare  of  the  individual,  and  the  continuance 
of  the  species.  These  activities,  taken  together, 
constitute  INSTINCT ; as  that  word  is  generally  un- 
derstood. And  Instinct,  as  thus  defined,  is  un- 
doubtedly the  sole  guide  of  many  of  the  lower 
tribes.  We  judge  so,  because  they  do  not  appear 
to  have  the  conditions  for  an  experience ; and  yet 


i88 


Instinct 


they  accomplish  their  work  perfectly,  and  in  the 
same  manner,  wherever  found.  But  so  far  as  expe- 
rience is  possible,  the  animal  seems  to  be  as  de- 
pendent upon  that,  as  is  the  human  race  itself. 

The  self-directive,  voluntary  activities  seem  to 
be  confined,  in  every  species,  to  the  narrowest 
sphere  of  action  possible,  consistent  with  the  wel- 
fare of  each  species,  under  its  ordinary  conditions 
of  life. 

In  addition  to  those  actions  which  are  plainly 
instinctive, — because  performed  at  once,  in  the  same 
manner,  by  all  members  of  any  given  species, — we 
see  animals  performing  other  acts,  in  the  same  line, 
or  connected  with  them,  that  seem  plainly  to  de- 
pend upon  acquired  knowledge. 

We  perform  the  same  kinds  of  acts,  as  many  an- 
imals perform,  not  only  because  we  have  been 
taught  by  others,  who  have  also  been  taught  or 
aided  by  experience,  but  we  do  them  understand- 
ingly : comprehending  the  relations  of  means  to 
ends ; knowings  feelings  willing.  We  form  plans, 
and  execute  them  for  our  pleasure.  The  mistakes 
of  inexperience,  we  correct  by  observation  ; and  we 
daily  become  more  skilful  in  any  work  we  do.  All 
these  acts  and  results  mark  us  as  “ thinking  beings,” 
as  this  phrase  is  generally  understood.  Within 
certain  limits,  the  higher  animals  appear  to  learn 
by  the  same  process  as  we  do,  and  to  act  with  the 
same  comprehension  of  means  and  ends.  The 
question  then  naturally  arises,  Do  any  animals  pos- 
sess a mental,  or  super-sensuous,  organization  like 
that  of  a man,  in  kind  ; so  that  any  of  their  acts,  are 


Thinking. 


189 


the  result  of  choice,  as  related  to  some  end  compre- 
hended by  them  as  desirable  ? In  other  words,  do 
animals  comprehend  relations,  and  then  act  for  the 
purpose  of  securing  pleasure,  by  adapting  means  to 
ends  ; or  are  they  impelled  to  all  acts,  for  their  pres- 
ervation and  productive  of  pleasure  to  them,  by  a 
blindly  working  force,  that  gives  law  to  their  vol- 
untary acts,  with  no  aid  from  any  of  those  powers, 
that  are  the  chief  distinction  of  man  ? Are  animals, 
in  any  proper  sense,  thinking  beings  ? The  answer 
to  this  question  can  be  given,  not  by  considering 
the  nature  of  any  act  alone,  but  the  conditions,  un- 
der which  the  act  is  performed.  For  purely  in- 
stinctive acts  manifest  as  much  wisdom,  as  any  in- 
telligent act  possibly  can,  in  aiming  at  the  same  re- 
sult. We  must  also  agree  as  to  what  is  meant  by 
thinking ; or  else,  while  we  agree  as  to  the  mental 
status  of  animals,  we  may  continue  our  war  of 
words,  simply  in  defence  of  our  definitions. 

We  have  had  of  late,  the  question  proposed ; 
What  is  it  to  think?  And  we  have  had  answers 
given,  that  all  thought  involves  processes  beyond 
the  powers  of  animals,  and  therefore  that  they  do 
not  think.  This  is  a short  way  of  disposing  of  the 
matter ; and  most  questions  can  be  disposed  of  in 
the  same  manner.  If  a man  starts  with  a given 
definition  of  thinking,  declaring  that  it  always  in- 
volves certain  elements,  and  then  denies  that  ani- 
mals ever  have  those  elements,  because  he  accounts 
for  all  apparent  manifestation  of  these  elements 
in  them,  by  some  low  form  of  association  of  ideas, 
the  argument,  with  him,  is  ended,  of  course.  We 


Instinct. 


190 

believe  that  animals  have  elements  of  thought 
which  some  have  denied  to  them.  We  know,  cer 
tainly,  that  animals  act  as  though  they  had  notions 
of  time,  space  and  causality.  But  it  can  never  be 
conclusively  proved  that  they  have  them,  we  readi- 
ly admit. 

To  be  explicit,  let  us  define  “ thinking,”  as  we 
now  intend  to  use  the  word.  If  any  object  to  the 
definition,  they  will  understand  our  meaning. 
When  any  being  performs  an  act,  to  secure  pleas- 
ure or  avoid  pain,  because  he  comprehends  his  act 
as  a means  to  secure  the  end,  we  consider  that  think- 
ing is  involved, — of  course,  it  often  rises  into  high- 
er planes  than  this,  as  philosophical  thinking  ; but 
we  consider  that  it  begins,  wherever  beings  act 
from  any  comprehension  of  means  and  ends. 

That  animals  perform  acts,  which  seem  to  imply 
thought,  no  one  will  deny ; purely  instinctive  acts, 
and  even  the  movements  of  plants,  seem  to  im.ply 
thought,  where  there  is  no  sensation  even.  If  we 
detect  Intellect  in  animals  at  all  then,  it  will  not  be, 
because  they  perform  certain  acts ; but  it  will  be, 
because  they  perform  these  acts  under  the  same 
conditions,  and  by  the  same  means,  or  methods,  as 
men  perform  them.  We  must  direct  our  attention 
then,  mainly  to  the  conditions  under  which  the 
acts  of  the  higher  animals  are  performed. 

We  are  now  called  upon  to  enter  one  of  the 
most  difficult  of  all  fields  of  observation,  and  to  com- 
pare objects  that  elude  the  grasp  of  every  sense. 
Those  who  have  attempted  to  compare  their  own 
sensations  and  conceptions  with  those  of  others, 


Sensations  Compared. 


191 


know  how  difficult  the  work  is.  Even  in  regard  to 
our  sensations,  or  sense-perceptions,  we  can  never 
be  sure  that  ours  correspond  with  those  of  another 
person,  under  the  same  conditions.  You  and  your 
friend  look  at  a flower,  and  agree  that  it  is  yellow  ; 
but  it  does  not  follow  that  you  both  have  the  same 
color-sensation.  It  simply  follows,  that  each  of  you 
has  the  same  sensation,  that  has  been  produced  in 
him,  by  all  objects  which  he  has  been  taught  to  call, 
yellow.  But,  as  a matter  of  fact,  when  your  friend 
says  he  perceives  a yellow  color,  he  may  have  just 
the  same  sensation,  as  you  have,  when  you  call  the 
color,  blue.  It  is  not  probable  that  it  is  so,  but  it 
is  not  possible  for  the  best  physicist,  or  metaphy- 
sician in  the  world,  to  so  make  the  comparison,  as 
to  be  sure  that  two  persons  have  sensations  alike, 
when  they  give  the  same  name  to  the  sensations. 
There  is,  indeed,  one  strong  argument  against  the 
likeness  of  sensations,  which  bear  the  same  name,  in 
different  individuals  ; that  is,  the  different  effect  of 
these  sensations  upon  the  sensibilities.  Two  per- 
sons agree  as  to  a color ; but  one  likes  it,  another 
dislikes  it.  They  agree  as  to  the  name  of  an  odor 
or  taste  ; but  they  disagree,  as  to  the  effect  of  that 
odor  or  taste,  upon  themselves.  It  is  certainly  a 
fair  question ; Does  not  the  different  effect  of  a 
taste,  or  odor,  or  color,  on  different  individuals,  im- 
ply that  each  produces  a different  sensation  upon 
one  person  from  what  it  does  upon  another  ? These 
inquiries  are  started  here,  to  show  the  inherent  dif- 
ficulty of  comparing  the  sensations  and  mental  oper- 
ations of  different  individuals,  if  one  is  disposed  to 


192 


Instinct. 


be  sceptical,  or  to  insist  upon  absolute  proof  of  their 
agreement  or  likeness,  in  any  given  case. 

The  proof  of  identity  of  sensations  and  sense- 
perceptions,  can  be  only  inferential,  strengthened, 
indeed,  by  our  belief  in  the  uniformity,  which  we 
see  running  throughout  our  physical  structures,  so 
far  as  the  examination  can  be  made,  by  the  aid  of 
the  senses. 

Because  animals  cannot  speak,  it  seems,  at  first 
thought,  a more  difficult  thing  to  compare  man 
with  an  animal,  than  it  is  to  compare  man  with 
man.  And  so  it  is,  in  some  respects  ; as  the  men- 
tal operations  can  best  be  revealed  through  lan- 
guage, and  some  of  them,  only  in  this  way.  But 
the  difference,  in  the  two  cases,  is  by  no  means  so 
great  as  it,  at  first,  appears.  We  must  in  both  cases, 
infer  the  correspondence  of  sensations  and  men- 
tal states,  by  certain  effects.  Man  can  aid  us  by 
language ; but,  on  the  other  hand,  an  animal  has 
no  metaphysical  theory  that  comes  in  to  disturb 
his  sensations,  or  his  acts,  as  consequent  upon  those 
sensations.  So  it  may  fairly  be  assumed  that  the 
honesty  of  an  animal,  in  acting  free  from  all  theo- 
ries, and  all  knowledge  that  he  is  under  examina- 
tion, may  be  a fair  offset  against  the  gift  of  speech, 
as  an  aid  in  investigating  the  sensations  and  con- 
ceptions of  our  fellow-men. 

As  our  object  now  is.  to  make  a fair  comparison 
of  man  with  the  highest  and  best  known,  of  the 
lower  animals,  we  begin  with  their  bodies. 

The  structure  of  all  vertebrates  is  essentially 
the  same,  and  varied,  only  in  accordance  with  the 


Animals  and  Man  Compared,  193 

conditions  of  life,  in  each  species.  There  is,  also, 
likeness  of  substance.  If  we  take  a human  bone 
and  one  from  a dog,  and  analyze  them,  we  find  them, 
thioughout  of  the  same  chemical  composition. 
The  bones  grow,  and  the  tissues  are  combined,  in  es- 
sentially the  same  manner  in  both.  The  differences 
are  merely  specific,  but  the  generic  character  of 
bone  is  constant.  If  we  compare  the  muscles  of 
both,  the  same  is  true.  Not  only  are  the  muscle  of 
a dog  and  that  of  a man  alike  in  their  general 
structure,  action  and  use,  but  they  are  composed  of 
the  same  materials,  and  they  grow  in  the  same  man- 
ner. The  nervous  systems  of  both  have  essential- 
ly the  same  composition,  as  they  have  the  same 
structure  and  the  same  use.  So,  throughout,  our 
comparison  will  hold,  until  we  satisfy  ourselves 
that,  in  any  one  of  the  higher  vertebrate  animals, 
we  find  the  same  kind  of  materials  organized  in  the 
same  manner,  and  for  the  same  uses,  as  in  our  own 
bodies.  Growth,  decay,  life  and  death  are  essen- 
tially the  same,  in  all  the  higher  animals,  as  in  man. 

Now  let  us  advance  a step,  and  compare  the 
senses  and  sensations  of  both.  We  have  no  sense 
which  we  do  not  find  in  some  animal ; and  the  senses 
of  animals,  so  far  as  we  can  judge,  are  affected 
in  the  same  way  as  ours  are,  by  the  same  objects. 
They  may  have  some  of  the  senses  more  acute  than 
ours  are,  but  they  differ  from  ours,  only  in  degree ; 
as  the  senses  of  men  differ  in  strength  and  delicacy. 
So  far  as  we  know,  no  animal  has  a sense  that  dif- 
fers from  ours,  in  kind. 

If  we  examine  the  phenomena  of  the  senses  in 
9 


194 


Instinct. 


detail,  we  shall  find  the  animal  affected  by  colors, 
odors  and  sounds,  as  readily  as  men  are.  He  may 
like  what  a man  dislikes ; as  men  may  be  affected, 
in  different  ways,  by  the  same  odor  or  taste.  If 
we  judge,  as  we  do  in  every  other  case,  it  must  be 
plain  to  every  observer,  that  animals  have  the  same 
kind  of  enjoyment  and  suffering,  through  the  senses, 
as  men  have.  To  heat  and  cold,  hunger  and  thirst, 
food  and  poison,  sickness,  pain  and  death,  they 
have  the  same  bodily  relations,  in  kind,  as  we  our- 
selves. So  far  as  sensation  has  its  recoil,  in  mus- 
cular or  physiological  effects,  there  is  great  simi- 
larity, if  not  identity,  of  effect. 

Those,  who  deny  that  the  lower  animals  suffer 
as  men  do,  bring  forward  no  valid  argument  in  fa- 
vor of  their  doctrine.  It  is  clear  assumption,  from 
some  notion  of  what  they  think  ought  to  be, — a 
method  of  procedure  utterly  unworthy  of  any 
searcher  for  truth.  Besides,  they  seem  to  forget 
that  the  same  arguments,  which  are  used  to  show 
that  the  dumb  animals  do  not  suffer,  but  only  ap- 
pear to  suffer, — if  accepted,  would  prove  that  these 
animals  have  no  enjoyment,  when  they  seem  to  be 
happy,  but  only  manifest  the  appearance  of  happi- 
ness. So  far  as  the  argument,  for  the  benevolence 
of  Deity,  is  concerned,  it  seems  quite  as  worthy  of 
His  character,  that  He  has  created  the  lower  ani- 
mals with  the  capacity  for  suffering  and  enjoyment, 
as  that  He  has  denied  them  both,  and  introduced  a 
dumb  show,  that  means  nothing,  simply  to  keep 
up  appearances!  We  doubt  not,  the  verdict  of 
every  thinking  man,  who  takes  time  to  study  and 


Enjoyment — Su ffering — Fear.  195 

observe,  will  be,  that  animals  have  great  capacity 
for  physical  suffering  and  enjoyment ; and  that  this 
capacity  is  greatest  in  those  animals  that  are  the 
companions  of  man,  depending  upon  him  for  much 
of  their  enjoyment,  and  receiving  from  him,  through 
ill  temper,  thoughtlessness,  or  neglect,  the  cause  of 
almost  the  entire  sum  of  their  suffering.  So  per- 
fectly adjusted  do  their  powers  seem  to  be,  that, 
were  they  treated  as  well  as  we  know  how  to  treat 
them — though  much  remains  to  be  learned  of  their 
proper  treatment,  as  well  as  of  our  own, — their 
lives  would  be  almost  uninterrupted  scenes  of  en- 
joyment ; and  they  would  contribute  far  more  to 
the  aid  of  man,  than  they  now  can.  But  let  us  now 
consider  what  may  be  called  the  psychological  ef- 
fects of  sensations,  as  manifested,  or  made  known 
to  us,  through  the  muscular  and  nervous  systems. 

An  object  known  to  man  to  be  dangerous  to 
him,  or  supposed  to  be  dangerous,  causes  fear ; and 
the  emotion  of  fear  has  its  natural  language,  which 
the  whole  body  speaks.  The  emotion  is  manifest- 
ed by  a certain  action  of  the  muscles,  producing  a 
peculiar  movement  or  fixedness  of  the  eye,  trem- 
bling, and  unusual  tones  of  voice.  These  same  ef- 
fects are  all  produced  upon  animals,  by  objects  eith- 
er dangerous  to  them,  or  to  which  they  are  unac- 
customed. They  are  frightened,  under  exactly  the 
same  conditions  as  men  are  frightened  ; in  many 
cases,  by  the  same  objects ; and  the  effect  of  the 
fright  upon  them,  as  manifested  by  the  muscular 
and  nervous  systems,  is  precisely  the  same  as  upon 
man, — and  the  actions  of  the  animal,  when  he  is 


96 


Instinct. 


frightened,  have  the  same  relation  to  his  ordinary 
actions,  as  we  observe  in  the  case  of  men.  We 
have  intimated  that  animals  know  certain  enemies, 
by  a special  instinct,  such  as  men  do  not  possess ; 
but  that  question  is  not  now  under  discussion. 
The  question  is,  as  to  the  animal’s  having  the  emo- 
tion of  fear,  from  any  cause ; and  as  to  the  likeness 
of  that  emotion,  to  the  emotion  of  fear  in  man. 

Animals  fear  things  that  cannot  injure  them, — 
they  judge,  and  very  often  misjudge.  A horse  is 
frightened  at  an  old  newspaper,  fluttering  in  the 
street,  or  at  a sudden  light  or  sound,  when  no  dan- 
ger is  near.  He,  to  all  appearances,  has  weak  judg- 
ment. He,  like  man,  tries  to  avoid  danger ; but  he 
is  deceived  by  the  semblance  of  the  thing,  as  chil- 
dren, or  timid  and  ignorant  men  are.  Then  a word 
from  his  master  re-assures  him  ; if  he  has  one,  in 
whom  he  has  confidence. 

Consider,  also,  the  emotion  of  anger.  It  is 
manifested  in  animals,  under  the  same  conditions, 
as  in  man.  Take  from  a man,  by  force,  that  which 
he  desires  to  keep,  and  he  is  angry, — so  is  a dog. 
The  emotion  of  fear  may  be  brought  in  to  control 
the  natural  effects  of  anger,  in  animals  as  well  as  in 
men.  Anger  has  the  same  effect  upon  the  nervous 
and  muscular  systems  of  each.  The  eyes  glare,  the 
muscles  become  tense  ; there  is  an  eagerness  to 
fight, — to  injure  the  aggressor, — and  there  seems 
to  be  an  insensibility  to  suffering,  from  wounds  and 
bruises.  The  tone  of  voice,  in  both  men  and  ani- 
mals, is  changed  by  anger ; and  the  change  in  both 
cases  produces  the  same  quality  of  voice.  The  emo- 


Emotions. 


197 


tion  of  anger  is,  then,  we  may  fairly  infer,  alike  in 
both, — in  its  cause,  and  in  its  effect  on  the  motions 
of  the  body,  its  position,  the  voice  and  the  act. 

If  we  consider  the  emotions  of  joy,  grief  and 
shame,  we  shall  find  the  similarity  to  hold.  In  the 
dog,  at  least,  the  animal  most  easily  studied,  we 
find  them  all  manifested  for  like  causes,  and  by  like 
motions  of  eye,  head,  limb  and  tone  of  voice,  as  in 
man.  A guilty  dog  drops  the  head  and  cannot 
look  his  master  in  the  eye, — he  manifests  a sense 
of  shame,  when  he  is  blamed,  so  that  he  thinks  his 
master  judges  him  guilty,  or  worthy  of  punishment. 
He  watches  the  eye  and  voice  of  his  master,  for  the 
first  indication  of  returning  favor,  and  expresses  his 
delight  as  plainly  as  actions  alone  can  express  an 
emotion.  These  higher  animals  even  know  how  to 
interpret  the  motions  and  tones  of  voice,  that  indi- 
cate some  of  these  emotions  in  men,  when  they 
themselves  are  not  directly  concerned. 

In  the  appetites  and  simple  emotions,  we  can, 
then,  make  no  distinction,  in  kind,  between  an  ani- 
mal and  a man.  The  more  closely  we  press  the  ex- 
amination, the  more  marked  does  the  likeness 
appear. 

When  we  come  to  consider  those  instinctive  im- 
pulses called  desires,  as  desire  of  life,  of  property, 
of  knowledge,  of  esteem  and  of  power,  the  exami- 
nation becomes  more  difficult.  The  animal  seems 
to  fear  a death,  of  which  he  could  have  no  knowl- 
edge ; and  he  fights  for  his  own  property,  if  it  is  only 
a bone.  He  curiously  tries  to  investigate  the  na- 
ture of  new  objects,  and  unaccustomed  sounds,  if 


198 


Instinct. 


they  do  not  arouse  his  fear,  so  as  to  overcome  his 
curiosity.  But  all  these  actions  are  so  constant, 
and  so  essential  to  his  well-being,  that  we  might 
expect  they  would  be  manifested  by  each  animal 
of  the  higher  types,  as  a necessary  condition  of  life. 
In  their  operation,  there  is  but  little  that  simulates 
love  of  life,  love  of  property,  and  love  of  knowledge 
in  man  ; the  difference,  however,  seems  to  be  in  the 
degree,  or  extent  of  these  desires.  But  the  desire 
of  esteem  is  as  well  marked  in  animals  as  in  man. 
Words  of  approbation  seem  as  grateful  to  one  as  to 
the  other ; and  both  plainly  do  acts  for  the  sake  of 
the  praise,  and  then  come  to  seek  their  reward. 

The  desire  of  power  is  as  well  marked,  but  may 
perhaps  be  referred  to  those  characteristics,  which 
are  essential  to  the  animal’s  well-being,  so  that  it  is 
very  difficult  to  point  out  its  likeness  to  the  desire 
of  power  in  man.  When  strange  dogs,  or  cattle, 
come  together,  the  first  thing  that  is  to  be  settled, 
if  they  are  near  the  same  size,  is,  which  is  the  bet- 
ter dog  or  ox  of  the  two,  with  teeth  or  horns?  If 
the  weaker  one  plainly  gives  up,  the  larger  will, 
sometimes,  be  satisfied  with  his  acknowledged  supe- 
riority. But  generally,  there  must  be  a battle. 
When  two  men  come  together,  it  is  the  same, 
whether  in  the  ring,  in  the  senate  chamber,  or  in 
the  parlor.  They  measure  each  other’s  strength, 
and  there  is  a constant  struggle  till  one  yields. 
Among  animals,  and  men  of  muscle,  the  battle  can 
be  seen  ; but,  in  many  cases,  among  men,  the  bat- 
tle is  only  known  to  the  two  combatants. 

It  is  generally  said  of  man,  that  he  has  the  de- 


Social  Natures. 


199 


sire  for  society.  Society  is  so  essential  to  his  high- 
est development,  that  it  has  been  called  a condi- 
tion of  his  being,  rather  than  a desire.  But  proba- 
bly there  is  to  man  an  enjoyment  in  society  which 
is  ultimate.  He  is  a social  being, — society  is  desired 
for  its  own  sake.  The  same  thing  is  true,  also 
among  animals.  Horses,  cattle,  sheep  and  dogs, 
appear  to  seek  each  other’s  company,  not  only  for 
the  sake  of  defence,  but  simply  for  the  sake  of  com- 
pany. It  may  be  said  that  dogs  seek  each  other’s 
company,  by  a remnant  of  the  old,  wolf  instinct, 
that  led  them  to  hunt  in  packs.  But  this  theory 
will  not  account  for  their  play  and  gambols  togeth- 
er, after  they  become  acquainted.  Nor  will  it  ac- 
count for  the  social  nature  of  such  herb-eating  ani- 
mals and  seed-eating  birds,  as  never  hunted  in  com- 
pany and  never  attempt  defence  in  concert. 

There  is  love  of  company,  in  one  animal,  as  mani- 
fested for  another  of  the  same  kind,  and  also  for 
men,  and  for  animals  of  different  kinds,  after  the 
emotion  of  fear  is  overcome. 

Shall  we  deny  to  animals  an  .Esthetic  nature? 
Here,  most  of  all,  we  need  language  to  aid  us.  Let 
us  be  sure  of  our  facts,  and  accept  them  as  a basis 
for  sound  inference,  instead  of  trying  to  explain 
them  away  under  the  influence  of  some  favorite 
theory. 

To  the  sound  of  music,  most  of  the  higher  ani- 
mals seem  attentive.  They  mark  diflerences  of 
sound,  that  often  escape  the  notice  of  many  men. 
The  dog  will  distinguish  the  sound  of  his  master’s 


200 


Instinct. 


sleigh-bell,  as  soon  as  its  tinkle  can  be  heard.  The 
horse  keeps  step  to  the  music,  and  learns  to  obey 
the  bugle  note.  Singing  birds  accompany  musical 
instruments,  and  imitate  their  sound,  and  the  songs 
of  other  birds,  to  perfection.  From  this  power  of 
accurately  discerning  sound  and  the  accompanying 
actions,  we  have  fair  ground  for  inferring  that  many 
of  the  higher  animals  not  only  distinguish  musical 
sounds,  but  enjoy  them.  That  wealth  of  melody, 
which  fills  our  fields  and  groves,  is  sweet  to  the  ear 
of  man  ; but  the  songsters  do  not  wait  his  coming, 
to  begin  their  concert. 

“ Is  it  for  thee,  the  linnet  pours  his  throat  ? 

Loves  of  his  own,  and  raptures,  swell  the  note.” 

That  animals  are  sensible  of  beauty  of  form  and 
color,  it  would  be  difficult  to  prove.  It  is,  certainly, 
some  argument  in  its  favor,  that  they  are  most 
beautiful,  in  form  and  color,  when  they  choose  their 
mates.  That  they  admire  the  landscape,  over 
which  they  wander,  or  gaze  from  the  giddy  Alps, 
with  the  emotion  of  awe,  or  wonder  at  their  sublim- 
ity, is  something  which  we  can  never  know.  These 
high  emotions  can  be  revealed  only  by  the  face  and 
tongue  of  man.  But  it  is  sometimes  said  that  all 
this  enjoyment,  which  comes  to  animals  through 
the  senses,  arises  from  a low  form  of  activity  which 
betokens  no  intelligence  or  thought.  Do  animals 
reason  ? After  eliminating  all  instinctive  acts, 
which  simulate  the  rational  acts  of  men,  do  we  find 
that  animals  perform  any  acts,  by  the  use  of  the 
same  powers,  and  in  the  same  manner,  as  men  do. 


Learning  from  Experience. 


201 


under  the  guidance  of  Intelligence  ? If  they  do  not, 
then  we  must  acknowledge  that  there  is  introduced 
into  the  works  of  nature,  a false  show,  which  is  ut- 
terly abhorrent  to  our  notions  of  truthfulness,  and 
subversive  of  confidence  in  all  our  reasoning  from 
natural  phenomena.  Animals,  certainly,  learn  by 
experience,  and  often  guide  their  lives  as  wisely  by 
it,  as  most  men  do.  Birds  fear  hawks  instinctively  ; 
but  they  learn,  by  experience,  that  man  and  many 
other  things  are  to  be  dreaded,  and  the  conditions 
under  which  they  are  most  dangerous.  The  crow 
learns  that  men  walking  alone,  are  apt  to  be  dan- 
gerous ; and  that  when  riding,  they  are  compara- 
tively harmless.  He  soon  allows  the  train  of  cars 
to  thunder  by  him,  while  he  sits  by  the  road  side, 
as  unmoved  by  its  roar,  and  fire,  and  smoke,  and 
engineers,  as  he  is  by  the  clouds  that  pass  over  him. 
He  has  learned  that  locomotives,  and  the  men  on 
them,  are  not  dangerous  to  crows. 

The  elephant,  that  has  broken  through  a bridge, 
fears  to  trust  himself  upon  another,  until  he  has 
satisfied  himself  that  it  is  safe.  Old  animals  learn 
to  fear  dangerous  things,  which  young  animals  may 
be  destroyed  by,  and  to  disregard  other  things,  that 
frighten  the  young.  There  is,  in  this  respect,  a very 
wide  range  of  experience  for  many  animals.  The 
same  kinds  of  animals  vary  in  their  knowledge,  ac- 
cording to  their  age  and  opportunity  of  learning, 
as  men  do. 

Probably  there  is  no  such  thing  as  stupidity  in 
Instinct  proper.  It  is  a difficult  question  to  settle; 
but  we  judge  so,  on  account  of  the  great  uniformity 
9^ 


202 


Instinct, 


in  the  work  of  those  animals,  like  bees  and  silk- 
worms, the  work  of  which  must  be  entirely  instinct- 
ive. Natural  selection  would  secure  uniformity, 
within  certain  limits ; and  there  probably  is,  as  we 
have  before  suggested,  the  same  sort  of  variation 
of  Instinct,  in  the  same  species,  as  there  is  of  or- 
ganic structure  ; but  so  far  as  we  can  judge,  the  dif- 
ference, in  the  work  of  insects  of  the  same  kind, 
seems  to  arise  from  some  disease  or  trouble  with 
the  functions  of  the  body;  and  not  with  the  In- 
stinct, as  a giriding  power. 

But  there  certainly  are  intelligent,  and  stupid 
animals, — animals  without  experience,  and  those 
with  an  experience,  which  they  turn  to  good  ac- 
count. Horses  and  dogs  differ  almost  as  much,  in 
their  ability  to  learn  from  their  own  experience,  or 
to  be  taught  by  their  masters,  as  men  do. 

But,  it  is  said  by  some,  that  this  apparent  learn- 
ing, from  experience  and  observation,  is  only  a low 
form  of  association  of  remembered  sensations  and  is 
never  connected  with  real  thinking.  As  an  asser- 
tion, this  statement  can  have  but  little  weight ; and, 
as  a proposition,  we  have  yet  to  see  it  sustained  by 
any  satisfactory  proof.  We  see  the  same  effects 
in  animals,  which  we  know  come  from  thinking  in  us, 
— we  see  that  certain  acts  of  theirs  are  the  same  as 
we  perform,  and  we  find  the  conditions  so  entirely  the 
same  in  both  cases,  that  we  feel  called  upon,  in  all 
honesty,  to  infer  thinking  in  the  animal,  until  we  can 
find  an  argument  against  it  better  than  those  that 
consist  in  denial,  or  which  start  from  premises  that 
beg  the  whole  question. 


Tarning  a7td  Ti'appmg. 


203 


The  whole  process  of  taming  and  training  ani- 
mals depends  upon  the  fact  that  they  learn  by  ex- 
perience. When  a wild  squirrel  is  first  caught,  he 
trembles  with  fear,  and  his  heart  throbs,  as  your 
own  would,  at  the  roar  of  a lion  in  the  jungle,  or  the 
war-whoop  of  the  savage  close  at  hand.  He  de- 
fends himself  instinctively,  with  all  his  power,  and 
with  the  weapons  nature  has  given  him.  Now  put 
him  in  a cage,  and  daily  feed  him,  and  treat  him 
kindly,  if  that  is  possible  while  he  is  caged.  By  de- 
grees, he  trusts  you  more  and  more,  until  he  is  tame, 
and  trusts  you  implicitly.  His  instincts  are  not 
changed.  He  still  fears  what  he  considers  danger- 
ous ; but  he  has  learned,  by  experience,  that  you 
are  not  dangerous,  though  he  once  judged  you  to 
be  so. 

The  whole  art  of  trapping  animals  consists  in 
deceiving  their  judgment.  This  judgment  is  to  a 
certain  degree,  instinctive,  as  we  have  shown ; but 
it  certainly  is  not  entirely  so,  in  the  case  of  the 
higher  animals.  They  become  cunning  as  they  are 
hunted.  No  animal  knows  instinctively,  that  iron 
is  dangerous ; as  may  be  readily  proved.  Rats  will 
run  overall  sorts  of  iron  utensils,  until  one  is  caught 
in  a trap  ; and  after  that,  his  fellows  generally  give 
that  particular  piece  of  iron-mongery,  a wide  berth. 
If  it  persistently  remains  at  the  rat-hole,  and  snaps 
up  a few,  which  have  not  learned  the  danger,  that 
hole  will  be  deserted,  as  a dangerous  place  for  rats. 

A fox  learns  that  a trap  is  dangerous  only  when 
it  is  set ; and,  sometimes,  the  trapper  has  to  match 
his  wit  against  that  of  the  fox,  and  often  finds  him- 


204 


Instinct. 


self  outwitted  in  the  end.  The  fox  will  dig  out 
his  trap  and  spring  it,  and  then  take  all  the  bait 
Such  old  fellows  have  been  caught  by  turning  the 
trap  upside  down,  so  that  the  fox  was  evidently 
caught,  as  he  dug  under  the  trap,  to  spring  it. 
When  an  animal  thus  gives  a trapper  extra  trouble, 
he  knows  well  before  it  is  caught,  that  it  is  an  old 
one, — one  which,  in  addition  to  the  instinctive  cun- 
ning and  knowledge  common  to  the  species,  as 
their  necessary  outfit  in  life,  has  a good  fund  of  ex- 
perience gained,  as  men  gain  theirs,  by  hardships 
and  dangers. 

There  is  one  fact  connected  with  the  fear  of 
enemies  among  animals,  that  is  worthy  of  attention, 
though  we  do  not  feel  sure,  at  all,  that  we  have  any 
satisfactory  explanation  for  it. 

That  individual  animals  should  become  wild,  by 
being  hunted,  is  easily  accounted  for ; but  all  the 
animals  of  a particular  district  soon  become  wild 
after  men  begin  to  hunt  there.  The  character  of 
the  whole  species,  in  that  place,  seems  to  be  changed. 
This  is  observed  to  be  true,  even,  of  fishes.  When 
the  western  counties  of  Massachusetts  were  first 
settled,  the  trout  were  easily  taken  in  the  streams ; 
but  now  their  whole  character  seems  to  be  changed, 
to  a degree  very  difficult  to  be  accounted  for,  on 
the  theory  of  individual  experience ; so  that  we 
are  driven  to  the  conclusion,  either  that  there  is  a 
method  of  communication  among  these  low  ani- 
mals, or  that  the  timidity  of  the  parent,  acquired 
from  danger,  and  a particular  form  of  danger,  is 
very  readily  transmitted  to  the  young.  This  latter 


Difference  in  Habits.  20  ^ 

explanation  seems  the  most  plausible : and  it  will 
probably  be  found  that  those  low  animals,  to  which 
is  denied  the  power  of  transmitting  knowledge  to 
their  descendants,  by  tradition,  have  given  to  them 
a physical  susceptibility,  so  that  the  benefits  of  ex- 
perience are  transmitted  to  the  young,  in  regard  to 
those  things  needful  for  the  preservation  of  the  spe- 
cies. This  would  be  in  harmony  with  the  general 
plan  of  creation,  as  manifested  in  other  provisions 
for  the  preservation  of  the  species,  by  the  plasticity 
of  their  nature ; and  it  accounts  for  the  observed 
facts  in  domestication,  and  among  the  wild  animals. 
One  has  only  to  visit  the  coast  of  Iceland,  where 
the  Eider-ducks  are  protected  by  the  inhabitants, 
and  the  coast  of  Greenland,  where  these  birds  are 
hunted  by  the  Esquimaux,  to  see  the  marked  dif- 
ference in  their  habits,  in  the  two  places.  In  Ice- 
land, they  are  almost  as  tame  as  domestic  fowls ; 
while  in  those  parts  of  Greenland,  where  they  have 
been  hunted,  they  are  among  the  most  wary  of 
birds.  We  simply  call  attention  to  the  subject, 
and  leave  it  for  future  observers  to  give  us  suffi- 
cient data  for  determining,  with  certainty,  the  true 
cause  of  that  sudden  change  in  all  the  animals  of 
a region,  after  a new  form  of  danger  appears  among 
them. 

If  animals  learn  by  experience,  this  fact  alone 
would  settle  the  question  of  memory.  But  facts 
are  abundant  showing  that  animals  remember  faces 
even,  and  that  for  years.  They  often  remember 
what  happens  but  once  ; nor  does  this  process  of 
memory  seem  to  be  a mere  bald  association  of 


2o6 


Instinct, 


ideas,  connecting  persons  and  places  with  pleasure 
and  pain,  only  when  those  persons  or  places  are 
again  perceived  by  the  senses.  There  are  some 
facts  which  seem  to  show  that  there  is,  in  the  ani- 
mal, a sphere  in  which  mental  reproduction  is  as 
independent  of  sensible  objects,  and  as  perfect,  as 
in  man.  The  hound,  that  has  been  hunting,  often 
dreams  of  the  chase.  His  limbs  move,  and  he 
barks  and  pants  for  breath,  in  his  eagerness.  If 
now  he  is  suddenly  awaked,  it  is  amusing  to  see 
him  rapidly  glance  around  him,  as  though  looking  to 
see  where  the  game  has  vanished.  After,  apparent- 
ly, satisfying  himself  that  it  was  only  a dream,  he 
settles  back,  for  a second  sleep,  with  all  the  gravity 
of  a man. 

From  all  these  facts,  we  infer  that  through 
the  senses,  men  and  the  higher  animals  have  the 
same  kind  of  sensations, — that  pleasure  and  pain 
are  brought  to  both,  through  the  nervous  system, 
under  similar  conditions.  That  they  have  the  same 
kind  of  emotions,  is  inferred,  because  the  same 
manifestations  through  the  physical  system,  that 
indicate  fear,  joy,  anger,  and  shame  in  us,  are  seen 
in  them,  under  just  such  circumstances,  as  would 
call  forth  those  emotions  in  man. 

In  a word,  then,  the  appetites  and  desires,  so  far 
as  we  can  trace  them,  in  men  and  animals  are  alike. 
Animals  remember  places,  persons,  and  events. 
They  love  and  hate.  Harsh  words  and  blows  repel 
them,  and  often  render  them  vicious.  Kind  words 
and  good  treatment  will  secure  their  confidence, 
good  service,  and  affection.  They  learn  much  from 


The  Governing  Principle.  207 

their  own  experience ; and,  especially,  they  are  able 
to  come  into  such  relations  to  man,  as  to  com 
prehend  his  desires  and  perform  his  commands. 

All  these  operations  certainly  involve  thinking, 
as  we  have  defined  the  word,  and  as  it  is  generally 
used.  If  we  accept  some  different  definition, — one 
that  eliminates  all  these  elements,  or  which  intro- 
duces such  elements  as  cannot  be  indicated  by  any 
of  these  manifestations,  of  which  dumb  animals  are 
capable,  let  us  know  just  what  this  definition  is. 
When  we  have  the  definition,  it  will  be  for  the  one 
giving  it  to  show,  by  something  more  than  mere  asser- 
tion, that  animals  are  excluded,  even  according  to 
his  own  definition,  from  the  list  of  thinking  beings. 

What  then,  in  the  animal,  is  the  governing  prin- 
ciple? We  say.  Instinct,  or  the  spontaneous, 
self-directing  activities,  in  distinction  from  free  In- 
telligence, a degree  of  which  animals  possess.  This 
we  attempted  briefly  to  show  in  the  last  lecture ; 
and  shall  more  fully  illustrate,  when  treating  of  man. 
But  at  this  point  of  the  discussion  we  wish  to  say, 
that  while  we  concede  Intelligence  to  the  higher 
animals,  in  distinction  from  Instinct,  we  find  noth- 
ing in  them  that  can  control  Instinct,  or  any  power 
by  which  the  animal  may  be  said  to  control  its  own 
destiny.  One  instinct  may,  from  certain  circum- 
stances, control  another;  as  when  parental  love 
overcomes  the  fear  of  danger  ; but  when  we  consid- 
er the  acts  of  animals,  as  a whole,  we  find  them  so 
completely  under  the  dominion  of  the  instinctive 
principles,  that  the  results  are  almost  precisely  the 
same  in  all  the  thousands  of  a given  species.  It  is 


208 


Insthict. 


this  control  of  Instinct,  making  Intelligence  a ser- 
vant^  rather  than  accepting  it  as  a master^  which 
gives  the  uniform  plane  to  the  life  of  animals,  of  the 
same  species,  when  left  to  themselves.  This  con- 
trol of  Instinct,  as  being  the  leading  power  in  the 
animal,  is  so  apparent,  that  it  probably  accounts  for 
much  of  the  reluctance,  on  the  part  of  many,  to  rec- 
ognize Intelligence  in  animals  at  all.  It  is  natural 
to  think  of  Intelligence,  wherever  it  is  present,  as 
ruling  Instinct ; because  it  thus  rules  in  man.  But 
because  Intelligence  in  animals,  takes  its  place  as  a 
servant,  under  the  control  of  Instinct,  it  has,  in 
many  cases,  been  entirely  overlooked,  or  its  exist- 
ence denied.  It  has  been  taken  for  granted,  that 
Intelligence  must  rule,  wherever  it  is  present.  In 
water,  there  is  cohesion  sufficient  to  form  a liquid, 
but  gravitation  rules ; and  the  current  of  water 
moves  on  as  this  force  determines.  Cohesion  plays 
a subordinate  part,  and  only  enables  gravitation  to 
give  the  water  greater  power,  as  it  moves.  When 
cohesion  increases,  by  the  fall  of  temperature,  gravi- 
tation still  acts  upon  the  particles,  but  it  no  longer 
controls  their  movements.  The  icicle  holds  firmly 
in  its  place,  the  frozen  river  refuses  to  flow,  and 
crystals  of  ice  shoot  upward,  in  mockery  of  gravita- 
tion. In  water,  cohesion  is  the  servant  of  gravita- 
tion ; in  ice,  it  becomes  its  master,  though  it  can  never 
escape  wholly  from  its  power.  So,  Intelligence  in 
the  animal,  like  cohesion  in  water,  must  bend  all  its 
energies  in  obedience  to  the  instinctive  principles, 
which  control  the  actions  of  animals,  as  gravitation 
does  the  particles  of  water.  But  in  man,  Intelli- 


209 


Rights  of  Animals. 

^ence  has  become  like  cohesion,  in  ice  and  in  the 
solid  rock,  which  keeps  them  in  form,  and  gives 
strength  to  the  iron,  and  beauty  of  form  to  the  crys- 
tal, in  spite  of  gravitation,  though  they  never  escape 
wholly  from  its  power. 

From  this  capacity  of  animals  for  suffering  and 
enjoyment,  we  infer  that  they  have  rights,  though 
this  is  denied,  on  technical  ground,  as  their  power 
of  thinking  has  been  denied. 

Animals  have  the  right  to  get  all  the  good  out 
of  life  they  can,  in  subordination  to  the  higher  be- 
ings placed  over  them.  It  is  said  animals  have  no 
conception  of  such  rights,  and  therefore  cannot 
have  them.  That  they  have  no  such  conception 
remains  to  be  proved ; but  in  the  mean  time,  we 
appeal  to  the  sense  of  kindness  implanted  in  their 
masters,  till  that  is  blunted  by  brutality,  or  a phi- 
losophy that  has  little  to  recommend  it. 

An  invasion  of  their  right  to  enjoyment,  they 
instinctively  repel.  And  the  natural  feelings  of 
men,  cry  out  against  any  wanton  infliction  of  pain 
upon  dumb  animals.  Those  who  torment  them,  are 
always  cruel  to  men.  The  laws  justly  protect  them 
against  cruel  masters ; and  in  these  laws,  the  com- 
munity recognizes  the  rights  of  animals.  Such  laws 
ought  to  be  better  enforced  than  they  are.  The 
bodily  suffering  of  animals  may  not  be  as  keen,  as 
that  of  a man, — if  it  were,  they  could  hardly  endure, 
as  long  as  they  do,  all  the  cruelties  practised  upon 
them,  through  thoughtlessness,  pride,  anger  and 
avarice. 


Instinct. 


210 

is  difficult  to  prove  that  there  is,  in  the  an- 
imal, any  sense  of  injustice,  though  there  are  man- 
ifestations that  look  as  though  there  might  be.  In 
some  cases,  the  punishment  he  inflicts,  is  not  for 
defence,  but,  plainly,  on  account  of  some  long  re- 
membered abuse.  But  so  helpless  are  animals, 
against  the  cruel  wrongs  practised  upon  them,  that 
their  sufferings,  for  the  moment,  make  every  honest 
man  indignant,  almost  every  time  he  passes  through 
the  streets.  One  would  be  glad  to  believe  that  an- 
imals are  spared  suffering  from  a sense  of  injustice 
— that  keenest  pang  which  man  is  called  upon  to 
endure. 


LECTURE  IX. 


INSTINCT  IN  MAN  GROWING  OUT  OF  HIS  APPE- 
TITES.— ANIMAL  IN  THEIR  ORIGIN. 

Man  and  Animals  compared. — Observation  and  study  a necessity  for 
Man. — The  higher  Ruling  Principle. — Free  Personality. — Com- 
plexity of  Man  s Nature. — Origin  and  use  of  the  Appetites. — Nar- 
row range  of  A nimal  Instinct  hi  the  child. — Nursing. — Fear.— 
Moral  Instincts. — A nimal  Instincts  to  be  governed. — Marriage.— 
The  desires. — Desire  of  Life,  of  Knowledge,  of  Power,  of  Esteem, 
of  Society.  — Revolutions  and  Reformations,  — Summation  of 
Activities. 

Man  is  called  a rational  being,  in  distinction  from 
the  brutes.  He  is  certainly  entitled  to  this  distinc- 
tion, as  a being  in  whom  Reason  ought  to  control 
all  the  activities.  Has  he  Instinct, — the  same  in 
kind  as  we  have  found  among  the  lower  animals  ? 
We  have  attempted  to  show  that  animals  have  In- 
telligence ; but  Intelligence  subordinated  to  their 
Instinct,  which  always  controls,  so  that  almost  uni- 
form results  are  secured,  among  animals  of  the  same 
species,  when  left  to  themselves.  It  has  so  long 
been  taken  for  granted,  by  a large  class  of  writers, 
that  animals  possess  nothing  but  Instinct,  to  account 
for  their  actions,  that  the  assertion,  that  they  pos- 
sess Intelligence,  shocks  many,  as  an  attempt  to 
break  down  the  distinction  between  man  and  brutes. 


212 


Instinct. 


And  the  assertion,  which  we  now  make,  that  man 
has  a wider  range  of  Instinct  than  any  other  animal 
on  the  globe,  may  be  regarded  as  another  attempt 
to  break  down  the  distinction,  upon  which  we  pride 
ourselves.  We  make  no  attempt  to  break  down 
distinctions.  We  wish  to  find  them,  where  nature 
has  placed  them, — as  we  mark  distinctions  in  a nat- 
ural classification, — and  not  to  invent  distinctions, 
or  make  them  where  they  only  seem  to  exist,  on 
account  of  some  accidental  characteristic,  as  is  done 
in  artificial  systems  of  classification. 

If  man  has,  in  him,  something  higher  than  an 
animal,  it  does  not  destroy  his  animal  nature  ; but 
it  is  something  added  to  that  nature.  This  animal 
nature  of  man,  we  are  first  to  consider ; for  it  is  an 
essential  part  of  us,  while  we  remain  in  this  world. 
We  have  already  shown  that  the  bodies  of  the  high- 
er animals  are  essentially  the  sam'e  as  those  of  men. 
The  bones,  and  muscles,  and  nerves,  in  both  corre- 
spond ; modified  only  according  to  the  habits  of 
each.  We  are  of  the  earth,  as  well  as  they.  We 
have  no  element,  in  our  bodies,  not  found  in  theirs. 
Our  bodies  are  subject  to  the  same  laws  as  theirs, 
in  every  respect,  except  as  they  have  given  to  them 
certain  changes  of  activities,  to  fit  them  for  special 
modes  of  life,  as  in  the  case  of  hibernation.  We 
find  in  ourselves,  no  new  law  of  physiology.  Every 
effort  costs  the  waste  of  tissue,  in  the  ox  which 
turns  the  furrow,  and  in  the  husbandman,  who 
holds  the  plough.  Hunger,  thirst,  weariness  and 
sleep  come  to  both  alike.  That  the  human  body 
is  all  animal,  there  can  be  no  doubt.  And,  as  an 


Impulses. 


213 


animal,  man  has  precisely  the  same  instincts,  in 
kind,  as  other  animals  ; and  to  the  number  and  de- 
gree, that  he  needs  them,  according  to  the  same 
principle,  which  we  have  found  to  prevail  among 
the  lower  animals.  We  have  found  Instinct  to  be 
simply  a method  of  action,  involving  impulse  to  per- 
form the  act,  and  knowledge  and  skill  enough,  with- 
out experience,  to  supplement  a parent’s  care.  We 
have  found  that  nature  gives  just  as  little  Instinct 
as  possible  everywhere ; and  leaves  as  much  to  ex- 
perience as  possible,  without  endangering  the  loss 
of  the  species.  If  she  gives  more  instinctive  knowl- 
edge to  the  young  of  any  kind,  it  is  because  she 
gives  less  to  the  parent ; giving  most  of  all  to  those 
young,  which  never  know  a parent’s  care.  Now, 
applying  these  principles  rigidly  to  man,  as  an  ani- 
mal, we  should  expect  him  to  possess  animal  in- 
stincts, mainly  as  impulses.  We  should  expect  him 
to  have  little  of  instinctive  knowledge  or  skill,  be- 
cause the  parent  is  able  to  supply  both,  and  has 
the  natural  affection,  or  instinctive  love,  to  ensure 
the  proper  action,  or  the  best  action  according  to 
her  judgment./  She  is  guided  mainly,  by  experi- 
ence. Instinct  never  gives  her  perfect  knowledge 
and  skill,  as  it  sometimes  does  the  lower  animals. 
The  whole  machinery  of  man’s  nature,  is  so  ar- 
ranged that  observation  and  study  have  always  been 
demanded,  and  always  will  be  demanded.  While  the 
instincts  of  the  child  and  parent  commence  in  im- 
pulses, just  as  they  do  in  all  other  animals,  the 
knowledge  and  skill  are  left  to  be  acquired.  And 
this  knowledge  can  be  increased,  from  generation 


214 


Instinct. 


to  generation.  Here,  then,  in  what,  at  first  sight, 
might  seem  to  be  the  imperfection  of  the  animal 
instincts  in  man,  we  find  the  intimation  of  his  high 
nature, — his  capacity  for  improvement,  and  the  ne- 
cessity for  it, — and  also  the  intimation  that  Intelli- 
gence must  guide  him,  even  as  an  animal ; for  his 
instincts,  which  are  mainly  impulses,  only  lead  or 
drive  him  to  ruin,  unless  they  are  directed  and  con- 
trolled. Intelligence  here  must  be  the  master  of 
instinctive  action,  and  not  its  servant,  as  among 
the  lower  animals. 

It  is  in  the  supersensuous  part  of  our  being  alone 
that  we  must  look  for  something  different  in  kind^ 
from  what  we  find  in  animals.  That  we  shall  find 
such  a principle,  we  have  no  doubt ; because  we 
see  in  man  results  which  mere  animal  powers  show 
no  tendency  to  reach.  This  principle  is  that,  in  man, 
which  is  highest  in  kind,  and  which  ought  to  rule 
his  whole  being.  It  should  be  autocrat  among  the 
powers.  It  should,  from  its  throne  above  in  the 
higher  nature,  rule  all  below, — making  Intellect  it- 
self an  instrument, — as  bodily  instincts  rule  in  the 
animal.  The  instincts  of  the  animal  grow  out  of 
his  bodily  organization — and,  so  far  as  the  animal 
is  concerned,  they  begin  and  end  with  that.  The 
higher  power  in  us,  which  should  rule  the  body, 
sometimes  demands  of  a man,  that  he  rise  above 
every  animal  instinct,  and  give  up  even  life  itself, 
although  there  may  be  none  to  admire  or  recount 
his  deeds.  He  may  be  so  true  to  himself,  as  to  de- 
liberately accept  of  death — die  for  the  truth. 

With  every  man,  is  the  choice  between  the  rule 


Mmgling  of  Activities, 


215 


of  his  higher,  and  lower  nature.  Though  walled 
around  by  fate,  or  the  laws  of  nature  in  the  world 
without,  and  the  laws  of  nature  in  his  own  structure 
and  animal  instincts,  there  is  yet  left  to  him,  a 
throne  of  sovereignty, — which  he  may  mount,  if  he 
choose, — from  which,  he  declares  what  powers  in 
him  shall  be  servants,  and  which  masters,  for  the 
time.  He  appoints  the  bounds  of  each,  or  he  could 
not  be  a responsible  being.  Here  we  come  to  the 
mystery  of  free  personality. 

The  instinctive  powers  of  the  higher  nature,  are 
ever  present  in  man,  and  their  agency  is  so  intimate- 
ly blended  with  the  agency  of  the  animal  instincts, 
— sometimes  wisely  controlling  them  and  sometimes 
basely  yielding,  while  they  run  riot  and  defeat  the 
very  ends  for  which  they  were  given, — that  it  is  al- 
most as  impossible  to  separate  the  activities  of  the 
two  natures  in  man,  as  to  discern  with  the  unaided 
eye,  the  yellow  red  and  blue,  that  are  woven  togeth- 
er in  the  sunlight.  We  need  a psychological  prism, 
which  shall  completely  untangle  the  web,  and  show 
the  animal  and  the  image  of  God,  that  together 
make  up  this  complex  being,  man.  In  the  animal, 
all  is  beautifully  simple.  Every  impression,  from 
without,  awakens  impulses  which  he  may  follow  to 
the  full  demand  of  his  nature,  with  profit  either  to 
himself  or  his  species.  His  simple  nature  is  self- 
poised.  If  harm  comes  to  him,  as  an  individual,  it 
is  in  following  an  instinct,  which  he  was  made  to 
follow,  and  which  will,  upon  the  whole,  bring  good 
to  his  race,  when  followed  to  its  full  demand.  But 
, every  impression  in  man,  that  wakens  the  animal 


2I6 


Instinct, 


instincts,  wakes  with  them,  a watchful  guardian, 
which  was  appointed  to  give  them  their  bounds, 
and  tell  them  when  to  act,  and  when  to  remain  in 
quiet,  though  their  strength  may  be  that  of  Titans. 

As  we  enumerate  the  animal  instinctive  princi- 
ples in  man,  let  it  be  understood  then,  that  we  re- 
gard them  as  constantly  modified  by  a higher  con- 
stitution, or  principle  of  action,  of  which  we  shall 
in  the  future  speak. 

As  we  compared  animals  with  men,  to  show  that 
they  have  something  of  that  Intelligence,  which 
appears  full-orbed  in  man,  so  now  we  must  compare 
men  with  animals  once  more,  to  show  that  our  life 
begins  on  the  same  plane  with  theirs.  The  frog 
and  the  fish  both  begin  their  lives  as  animals  of  the 
same  kind.  The  young  frog  is,  to  all  appearances, 
a fish  ; but  there  is  in  him,  from  the  beginning,  a 
principle  of  organization  that  will  in  the  end,  give 
him  lungs,  and  enable  him  to  live  in  the  upper  air  ; 
while  the  fish  must  continue  to  breath  by  gills,  dur- 
ing his  whole  life.  So  man  begins  his  life,  to  all 
outward  appearances,  as  the  lower  animals  begin 
theirs, — more  helpless,  indeed,  because  his  helpless- 
ness is  supplemented  by  the  enduring  love  and  care 
of  the  mother. 

The  occasion  for  most  of  the  lower  forms  of 
activity,  in  animals  and  men,  are  the  appetites,  as  we 
have  shown.  They  arise  as  naturally,  from  the  phys- 
iological condition  of  the  body,  as  hair  grows  upon 
the  head  or  nails  upon  the  fingers.  It  is  as  difficult 
to  account  for  the  origin  of  one  of  these,  as  for  that 
of  the  other,  and  no  more  so.  There  are  connected 


Relation  of  the  Young  to  the  Mother.  217 

with  the  body  still  other  forms  of  impulse  and  guid- 
ance, that  secure  purely  automatic,  or  reflex  action. 
But  in  the  appetites,  we  find  the  first  provision  for 
those  constantly  recurring  activities,  which  lead  to 
definite,  voluntary  action,  and  are  plainly  provided 
for  the  preservation  of  the  individual  and  the  spe- 
cies— so  powerful  in  their  demands,  that  they  can- 
not be  forgotten,  nor  be  neglected  without  produ- 
cing suffering  and  injury.  When  Appetite  calls.  In- 
stinct answers  by  some  voluyitary  act.  The  nature 
of  that  first  instinctive  act  varies  as  much  as  the  de- 
gree of  perfection  of  organs,  with  which  the  animal 
comes  into  the  world,  and  for  the  same  reason. 
The  bodily  organs  of  the  animal  vary  just  in  propor- 
tion to  the  ability  of  the  mother  to  take  care  of 
him ; and  the  same  is  true  of  his  instincts.  Each 
animal,  from  the  lowest  to  man,  has  just  enough 
of  organization  and  of  Instinct,  to  supplement  the 
care  which  the  mother  is  ready  to  bestow  upon  him ; 
and  this  care  of  the  mother,  depends  upon  the  struct- 
ure and  functions  of  her  body  and  her  instincts. 
Among  the  fishes,  or  most  of  them,  no  parent’s  care 
is  needed.  The  organization  and  instincts  of  the 
young  fish  are  sufficient  to  preserve  life  from  the  be- 
ginning. As  soon  as  the  material  in  the  egg  is  con- 
sumed, from  which  the  fish  was  hatched,  he  is  ready 
to  hunt  food  for  himself.  As  the  period  arrives,  when 
other  instincts  are  needed,  they  appear,  as  the  dif- 
ferent parts  of  his  body  appeared  in  the  egg,  at  the 
proper  time. 

Many  insects  come  into  their  highest  form,  with 
organs  and  instincts  perfect,  from  the  first  moment 
10 


2I8 


Instinct. 


of  that  life.  Birds  that  cannot  fly,  walk,  or  see  when 
they  are  hatched,  have  mothers,  which  build  nests, 
in  anticipation  of  their  coming,  and  have  the  in- 
stinct to  bring  them  the  food  they  need.  The 
chickens  and  young  partridges  leave  the  nest  at 
once,  pick  the  food  which  the  mother  finds,  and 
often  find  it  for  themselves.  They  gather  under  the 
wings  of  the  mother  for  warmth,  and  sometimes  for 
protection,  but  rush  from  her  in  such  danger  as  she 
cannot  protect  them  from. 

The  Opossum  and  all  the  marsupial  tribe,  have 
young  more  immature  than  other  animals,  but  the 
mother  has  a pouch,  in  which  they  are  securely 
carried.  Their  imperfect  development,  at  birth, 
is  just  supplemented  by  this  curious  special  struct- 
ure in  the  parent.  These  are  instances  for  illus- 
tration, but  the  result  may  be  summed  up  thus : 
The  structure  and  Instinct  of  the  young  at  hirth^  and 
the  structure  and  Instinct  of  the  mother  combined^ 
are  just  sufficient  to  give  the  young  a fair  chance 
m the  worlds  so  that  the  species  may  be  preserved ; — 
one  of  these  elements  supplements  the  other.  If  the 
chances  are  still  largely  against  the  individual,  so 
that  the  species  would  seem  to  be  in  danger,  then 
the  number  of  individuals  from  a single  parent  is 
increased. 

The  same  law  holds  in  general,  in  the  human 
race.  The  child  is  one  of  the  most  helpless  of  all 
beings,  as  it  commences  life ; and  it  is  dependent 
upon  the  care  of  others  much  longer  than  any  other 
animal  with  which  we  are  acquainted.  But  its  long 
years  of  helplessness  are  provided  for  in  the  natural 


219 


Reflex  Actions. 

love  of  parents,  and  the  common  feelings  of  hu- 
manity and  considerations  of  the  public  good. 
These  all  become  strengthened  in  man,  just  in  pro- 
portion as  he  rises  above  the  condition  of  an  ani- 
mal. 

But  what  of  the  child’s  animal  instincts?  They 
are  brought  within  the  narrowest  limits,  but  appear 
in  regular  order  as  he  develops,  as  we  have  seen  to 
be  true  of  all  other  animals.  At  the  demand  of 
appetite,  the  child  is  as  ready  to  nurse,  as  the  young 
bird  is  to  raise  its  head  for  food. — This,  we  consider 
a purely  instinctive  act.  We  know  attempts  have 
been  made,  by  very  high  authorities,'^  to  show  that 
this  act  of  the  child  is  not  instinctive,  but  simply  a 
reflex  action, — in  the  beginning,  entirely  involun- 
tary. We  cannot  believe  this,  at  all.  But  if  it 
could  be  proved,  it  would  only  show  that  in  the  hu- 
man species,  a reflex  action  is  provided  for,  which 
simulates  and  takes  the  place  of  Instinct,  in  the  lower 
animals.  If  the  act  is  not  instinctive,  it  is  certainly 
lower ; as  all  reflex  actions  are  lower  than  instinctive, 
and  supplementary  to  them,  in  both  animals  and 
men. 

As  soon  as  the  child  can  discern,  it  instinctively 
fears  danger,  before  it  can  possibly  have  learned,  by 
experience,  that  there  is  danger.  It  fears  a strang- 
er’s face,  and  clings  to  its  mother  for  protection,  be- 
fore it  has  any  rational  ground  for  fearing  any  one. 
It  has,  like  an  animal,  instinctive  dread  of  danger, 
but  it  has  not  yet  learned  what  is  dangerous.  It 
needs  a mother’s  care ; but  all  her  cautions  in 


* Maudsley,  p.  63  ; and  others. 


220 


Instinct. 


childhood,  would  have  little  effect,  were  it  not  for 
this  instinctive  fear.  This  supplements  her  care, 
and  instructions, — it  is  all  that  gives  her  warnings 
any  weight,  until  later,  the  child’s  instinctive  love 
for  her,  and  love  of  approbation  and  reward,  lend 
their  aid ; and  finally,  the  high  Instinct  of  his 
moral  nature,  of  which  “ OUGHT  ” is  the  natural 
expression,  is  ready  to  take  the  helm.  Henceforth 
his  activities  may  be  ruled  by  this  higher  nature,  as 
the  animal’s  are  from  his  lower.  He  will  make  mis- 
takes, even  while  that  rules ; but  he  can  grow  in 
knowledge  evermore,  while  the  animal,  having 
knowledge  sufficient  to  secure  life,  given  to  him 
without  experience,  can  never  make  acquirements 
higher  than  his  bodily  instincts  can  use,  in  their 
narrow  round. 

When,  later  in  life,  the  son  seeks  a wife,  and  the 
daughter  leaves  her  home,  and  goes  forth  to  cast 
her  lot,  for  life,  with  a comparative  stranger,  we  see 
an  exhibition  of  Instinct  that  is  a marvel — one 
that  often  defies  all  the  dictates  and  controlling 
power  of  boasted  Reason.  It  is  all  very  well  and 
right  to  talk  of  sensible  marriages ; and  of  law,  as 
regulating  marriage ; that  is  all  right ; because  man 
is  made  to  control  his  animal  instincts — to  bring 
one  into  subordination  to  another.  And  his  in- 
stinct to  form  Society,  and  protect  it,  so  as  to 
secure  the  good  of  the  whole,  leads  him,  through 
the  agency  of  his  higher  intellectual  and  moral  na- 
ture, to  prescribe  certain  rules  by  which  individual 
instincts  shall  be  governed.  By  prescribing  rules 
for  the  animal  instincts,  and  by  punishing  the  unre- 


Control  of  Instincts. 


221 


strained  action  of  those  instincts  as  a crime,  man 
shows  at  once,  that  his  governing  power  is  higher  in 
kind,  than  his  animal  nature.  But  if  he  is  wise,  he 
never  attempts  to  entirely  check  an  instinct,  but 
he  directs  it  into  the  right  course  and  then  favors 
it,  to  Its  full  activity,  in  subordination  to  Reason. 
And  the  right  course  of  the  appetites  and  instincts 
in  man,  can  only  be  learned  by  experience.  And 
just  in  proportion  as  there  is  ability  to  learn  by 
experience,  is  there  chance  for  loss  before  the  ex- 
perience comes.  Liability  to  suffering  from  igno- 
rance, and  ability  to  improve  by  experience,  are  as 
necessary  polarities,  in  the  same  being,  as  capacity 
for  suffering  and  enjoyment  are  necessary  polarities. 
As  much  as  one  is  diminished,  so  much  is  the  other 
weakened ; as  by  weakening  the  polarity  of  one 
end  of  a magnet,  you  weaken  the  other  at  the  same 
time.  As,  in  man,  the  ability  to  profit  from  expe- 
rience is  at  its  maximum,  because  he  can  avail  him- 
self of  the  experience  of  others  in  the  past  as  well 
as  present,  so  is  the  danger  of  loss  from  ignorance, 
in  following  the  instincts  which  in  him,  are  simply 
impulses,  and  never  fully  directive,  as  they  are 
among  the  lower  animals.  They  are  powerful — 
must  be  heeded — but  in  general  need  instruction 
and  law  to  direct  them  ; both  of  which,  to  be  of  any 
value,  must  be  simply  the  echo  of  experience. 
They  never  will  be  perfect,  till  they  are  the  true 
echoes  of  the  best  possible  experience. 

So  then  marriage,  high  and  holy  as  it  is,  around 
which  all  that  is  most  lovely,  and  pure,  and  sacred 
on  earth,  centres,  has  its  origin  in  the  instinctive 


222 


Instinct. 


nature  of  the  race — in  the  same  instincts,  that  ap- 
pear in  all  the  higher  animals,  which  even  there  are 
so  beautiful  that  the  philosopher  is  made  to  say, — 

“ In  parental  care  and  nuptial  love, 

I learn  my  duties  from  the  dove.” 

Those  who  think  the  instincts  of  humanity  are 
to  be  ignored,  in  the  relation  of  the  sexes,  forget 
that  man  has  an  animal  nature ; and  those  who 
think  the  instincts  are  a sufficient  guide,  forget 
that  he  belongs  to  that  noble  class,  who  are  permit- 
ted to  learn,  and  to  become  wiser  by  new  experi- 
ence in  every  generation.  They  both  shoot  wide 
of  the  mark, — or,  to  use  another  figure,  while  they 
are  looking  at  the  same  shield,  they  are  gazing  upon 
opposite  sides ; and  while  they  thus  stand,  there  is 
no  chance  for  agreement  as  to  all  the  devices  and 
inscriptions  which  the  shield  bears. 

The  DESIRES  are  generally  regarded  as  distinct 
from  the  Instincts.  There  is  certainly  no  ground 
for  this  distinction,  if  we  consider  their  method  of 
action,  and  remember  that  some  instincts  involve 
impulse  as  well  as  guidance.  Some  of  the  desires 
have  the  same  relation  to  the  welfare  of  the  being, 
as  the  appetites  have;  that  is, — they  are  impulses 
to  action — instinctive  impulses — the  foundation  of 
both  instinctive  and  intelligent  acts.  Their  action 
is  often  complex,  and  often  intertwined  with  the 
action  of  the  acknowledged  appetites  and  instincts 
But  the  confusion  has  arisen,  mainly,  from  regard- 
ing Instinct  as  a distinct  thing,  rather  than  as  a 


Desires. 


223 


certain  method  of  action  common  to  all  classes  of 
powers,  in  all  beings  with  which  we  are  acquainted, 
either  as  the  sole  condition  of  their  life,  or  the  first 
condition  of  their  intelligent  action.  The  desires 
are  thought  to  belong  to  the  mind,  rather  than  to 
the  body;  and  this  is  undoubtedly  true  of  some 
of  them,  for  they  neither  originate  from  any  func- 
tion of  the  body,  nor  have  special  reference  to  its 
welfare.  It  is  their  method  of  action,  which  we 
now  consider,  and  not  the  plane  or  sphere  of  their 
activity.  But  then  we  find  a certain  similarity  of 
action  running  through  every  plane  of  being.  The 
tree  must  feed,  digest  and  assimilate, — so  must  the 
body  of  man, — so  must  his  mind, — so  must  his 
moral  nature.  There  is  a wonderful  similarity  run- 
ning through  the  whole,  in  the  substratum  of  each 
new  plane  ; though  something  new  may  be  added, 
as  we  go  up  from  plane  to  plane.  Man  is  made  up 
of  layers,  like  the  geologic  strata.  As  we  come  up 
through  the  formations  of  the  earth,  new  forms  of 
life  appear,  higher  and  better  than  those  before ; 
but  they  are  cast  according  to  the  same  types  that 
we  found  below.  There  is  unity  of  plan,  though 
no  necessary  connection  of  actual  relationship,  of 
one  form  with  the  other.  So  man,  in  his  unity, 
like  the  globe,  appears  in  stratas, — vegetative  life, 
animal  life,  intellectual  life,  moral  life, — all  proceed- 
ing with  so  much  similarity  of  action,  that  it  is  not 
strange,  these  stages  are  considered  by  some,  as 
simply  different  degrees  of  development  of  the 
lowest ; as  man  himself  is  regarded  by  some,  as  the 
offspring  of  some  lower  animal. 


224 


Instinct. 


The  desire  of  life,  which  is  sometimes  placed 
above  the  instincts,  as  belonging  to  the  mind,  is 
certainly  one  of  the  lowest  of  the  instincts,  in  the 
sense  of  being  the  broadest,  and  as  being  only  an 
impulse.  It  gives  rise  to  a whole  series  of  definite 
instinctive  acts  among  animals,  and  of  rational  acts, 
among  men,  which  tend  to  preserve  life.  This  is 
true,  to  some  extent,  of  the  remaining  desires, — 
desire  of  knowledge,  desire  of  power,  of  property, 
of  esteem,  and  of  society.  These  are  the  basis  of 
the  social  nature  of  man.  The  last  leads  him  to 
seek  society,  the  others  tend  to  regulate  society, — 
are  impulses  and  hints  for  experience  to  build 
upon.  “ Men,”  says  Emerson,*  “ as  naturally  make 
a state,  or  a church,  as  caterpillars  a web  ; ” and 
this  is  true  ; because  the  impulses  and  the  hints  are 
in  them.  But  while  the  caterpillars  have,  for  them- 
selves, one  best  form  of  web,  which  appears  as  reg- 
ularly, with  each  new,  uninstructed  and  inexperi- 
enced brood,  as  the  number  of  rings  in  their  bod- 
ies, or  the  color  of  the  hairs  and  spots  that  cover 
them,  man  is  left  to  work  out  the  best  form  of 
state-web  or  church-web,  for  himself ; by  entangling 
himself  and  fellows,  in  all  sorts  of  make-shifts, 
which  may  be  a curse  to  him,  or  may  be  well 
enough,  in  one  age  or  one  part  of  the  world,  but 
perhaps  are  no  more  fitted  for  him  as  he  grows, 
than  the  bark  of  the  young  sapling  is  fitted  for 
the  trunk  of  the  full  grown  tree.  The  bark  of  the 
tree,  and  the  web  of  both  state  and  church,  must 


* “ Conduct  of  Life/’  p.  176. 


Progress, 


225 


be  rent  and  thrown  off,  while  larger  bark,  and 
more  enlightened  forms  of  government,  in  state  and 
church,  take  their  place;  unless  they  can  all  grow 
in  time  to  save  the  rending.  They  must  all  yield 
to  the  demands  of  that  expanding  organism,  which 
they  were  made  to  serve ; be  it  the  tree-trunk,  or 
society.  Revolutions  and  reformations  are  the 
rending  of  the  old  exuvice  of  state  and  church, 
under  the  promptings  of  a higher  life.  This  tran- 
sition period,  necessary  for  more  perfect  growth,  is 
the  most  critical  time  for  animals  and  men. 

The  first  impulse  then,  to  every  voluntary  act 
in  man,  that  is  necessary  to  preserve  the  life  of  the 
individual,  the  continuance  of  the  species  and  the 
formation  of  society,  seems  to  be  as  purely  instinct- 
ive, as  any  act  of  an  animal.  But  the  impulse,  to 
all  these  acts  in  man,  must  be  limited,  and,  in  most 
cases,  directed  in  him,  by  some  higher  principle, 
which  can  act  rightly  only  in  the  light  of  experi- 
ence ; while  in  the  animal.  Instinct  not  only  gives 
the  impulse,  but  is  self-directive,  and  self-limiting, 
or  is  limited  in  its  action  by  the  vegetative  func- 
tions of  the  body.  The  animal,  in  a state  of  na- 
ture, finds  his  highest  perfection  in  going  just  as 
far  as  Instinct  and  function  of  organs  will  allow. 
Man,  giving  himself  up  to  such  influences,  without 
the  guidance  and  limitation,  which  his  intellect- 
ual nature  affords,  and  which  his  moral  nature 
demands,  sinks  below  the  brutes,  as  a matter  of 
course. 


We  have  thus  far  used  the  word  INSTINCT  for 


226 


Instinct. 


convenience,  nearly  in  the  sense  given  by  Whately 
as  a blind  tendency  to  some  mode  of  action  inde- 
pendant of  any  consideration,  on  the  part  of  the 
agent,  of  the  end  to  which  the  action  leads.  This 
is  as  good  a definition  as  any  that  has  been  given, 
but  it  does  not  cover  the  whole  ground  of  instinct- 
ive action,  as  we  have  shown  more  than  once,  dur- 
ing the  course  of  these  lectures.  It  is  well  for  us 
at  this  point,  to  enumerate  all  the  powers  or  activ- 
ities, which  we  have  now  found  in  the  higher  ani- 
mals and  man,  which  they  have,  to  some  degree, 
in  common.  It  is  in  this  way  only,  that  we  can 
point  out  the  true  nature  and  sphere  of  Instinct  in 
both,  and  this  we  desire  to  do,  whether  we  are  able 
to  give  a single  definition  which  will  be  satisfactory 
or  not. 

1.  We  find  Physiological  agencies,  by  which  the 
body  is  built  up  and  repaired,  and  provision  made 
for  the  reproduction  of  the  species.  These  agen- 
cies belong  to  the  vegetative  life  of  the  animal 
and  man ; volition  has  no  direct  control  in  any  of 
their  operations.  They  supply  the  conditions  for 
voluntary  action. 

2.  We  find  a sensitive  nature,  by  which  the  ani- 
mal is  brought  into  relations  to  the  world,  by  sen- 
sation and  sense — perception.  This  is  the  true  an- 
imal nature. 

3.  We  find  certain  reflex  actions,  the  result  of 
stimuli  acting  upon  the  vegetative  and  animal  na- 
ture. They  are  involuntary  movements  required 
for  the  benefit  of  the  body — as  winking,  coughing, 
sneezing,  and  the  like. 


Products  of  Instinct. 


227 


4.  We  find  the  appetites,  which  arise  from  the 
functions  of  organs,  but  are  powerful  stimuli  to 
action. 

All  these  are  conditions  for  voluntary  activity ; 
and  upon  these  the  instincts,  including  the  desires, 
begin  to  appear, — and  they  involve  several  distinct 
things,  as  follows  : 

a.  — Impulse^  arising  beyond  the  sphere  of  the  ap~ 
petites^ — as  the  impulse  to  migrate  and  to  store 
food  for  winter, — also  the  desires,  so-called. 

b.  — Knowledge  without  instruction  or  experience^ 
for  meeting  the  dema7ids  of  the  appetites  and  desires^ 
and  for  doing  all  those  things  essential  to  the  con- 
tinuance of  the  race. 

c.  — Knowledge  arising  independently  of  the  ap- 
petites^— as  recognition  of  certain  enemies  without 
instruction,  or  experience. 

d.  — Skill  without  mstruction  or  practice^ — to  carry 
out  the  plans  necessary  to  meet  the  demands  of  the 
appetites  and  other  impulses  required  for  the  exist- 
ence of  the  species. 

These  three  distinct  things  are  involved  in  the 
manifestations  of  those  activities,  which  are  togeth- 
er labelled  Instinct, — Impulse,  knowle dge  -exidi  skill , 
— they  are  all  given,  as  needed  to  begin  life, — as  or- 
gans are  given  for  the  same  purpose.  These  pro- 
ducts of  the  animal’s  being  determine  nothing  of 
his  rank.  They  simply  say,  “ We  are  here,  because 
this  animal  7nust  live — we  are  here  to  7neet  the  condi- 
tions of  his  life,  till  he  has  a chance  for  experience. 
If  he  is  not  to  have  that,  we  must  go  farther  and  do 


228 


Instinct. 


the  whole  work  ; and  do  it  so  that  the  wisest  being  on 
the  globe  cannot  improve  upon  our  work^  though  we 
zvork  through  BEES  and  SPIDERS  and  WORMS — the 
lowest  forms  that  live. 

Next  above  the  instincts,  we  have  found  Intelli- 
gence, which  enables  the  actor  to  comprehend  the 
probable  results  of  his  own  acts  before  they  are  put 
forth.  It  may  rise  much  higher  than  this,  but  here 
its  work  begins.  All  these  activities  and  powers 
here  enumerated,  we  find  in  man  and  in  the  high- 
est of  the  lower  animals.  So  far,  certainly,  the  an- 
imals differ  from  each  other,  and  from  man,  only  in 
degree.  But  while  all  these  activities  take  their 
rise  in  the  animal  nature,  they  shoot  up  higher  in 
man,  and  so  interweave  themselves  with  every  no- 
bler power,  that  we  shall  find  them  constantly  re-ap- 
pearing, as  we  consider  the  higher  nature  of  man. 
So  intimately  blended  are  the  natural  affections 
with  the  moral  nature  of  man,  that  even  the  natu- 
ral affections  of  animals,  which  give  them  a social 
nature,  have  been  referred  to  by  some,  as  proof  of 
a moral  nature  in  them.  We  hope  to  make  plain 
the  distinction  between  these  two  natures,  before 
the  close  of  these  lectures. 


LECTURE  X. 


RELATION  OF  THE  INSTINCTIVE  PRINCIPLES  OF 
ACTION  TO  THE  RATIONAL  AND  MORAL  NA- 
TURE OF  MAN. 

Intuitions  and  Instincts. — Something  must  be  given  as  a basis  for 
Reasoning  and  for  acting. — Agricultural  Ants. — Belief  in  the  uni- 
formity of  Natural  phenomena,  from  observation. — Instinct  acts  in 
reference  to  contmgent  events. — Purposes  for  which  Instinctive 
Principles  are  needed  by  man. — The  Desires. — The  Affections. — 
Love  of  Society. — Knowledge,  Property,  Power,  Esteem. — Faith. — 
Benevolence. — Need  of  gtddance  in  man. — The  Ruling  Power. — 
Conflict  between  the  higher  and  lower  Instincts. — The  Comprehend- 
ing Power. — Difference  between  man  and  the  highest  animals. — 
“ OUGHT.” — Sense  of  obligation. 

That  man  would  have  animal  instincts,  as  an  im- 
pulse at  least,  we  should  expect,  since  his  body  has 
essentially  the  same  structure,  and  the  same  rela- 
tions to  the  world,  as  have  the  bodies  of  all  the 
higher  animals.  It  now  comes  in  order  for  us  to 
inquire,  if  there  is  Instinct,  or  any  principle  of  ac- 
tion like  Instinct,  reaching  into  his  rational  nature  ; 
in  virtue  of  which  nature,  he  is  wont  to  claim  great 
superiority  over  the  lower  animals,  and  difference 
from  them  in  kind.  We  are  also  called  upon  to 
trace  more  fully  than  we  have  done,  the  connection 
between  the  animal  instincts  and  this  higher  nature 
of  man,  that  we  may  learn  how  far  they  are  modi- 


230 


Instinct. 


fied  by  it,  and  to  reach,  if  possible,  that  guiding 
and  controlling  power  for  all  the  activities,  of  which 
we  have  spoken. 

It  is  generally  conceded  by  Psychologists,  that 
man,  as  a rational  being,  has  certain  intuitive  no- 
tions in  regard  to  being,  quantity,  causality  and 
the  like.  It  belongs  to  Mental  and  Moral  Philos- 
ophy to  treat  of  these  notions  fully.  But  we  are 
here  called  upon  to  mark  more  clearly,  than  we 
have  done,  the  difference  between  Intuition  and  an- 
other principle  in  the  higher  nature  of  man,  which 
seems  to  be  the  same  in  its  method  of  action  as  ac- 
knowledged Instinct.  Intuitions  belong  to  us  as  ra- 
tional beings  simply;  Instincts,  as  beings  called 
upon  to  act.  We  believe  some  things  instinctively , 
and  some  things  intuitively.  The  words  have  been 
often  used  interchangeably,  though,  in  general,  they 
have  been  so  used  as  to  show  that  there  ought  to 
be  a difference  between  them.  We  will  start  with 
a distinction,  which  we  trust  our  past  and  future 
discussions  will,  when  taken  together,  show  to  be  a 
just  one. 

Instinct  belongs  to  beings,  as  acting,  and  so 
relates  to  the  nature  and  possible  combination  of 
things,  and  the  order  of  events.  Our  knowledge 
of  these,  and  of  our  right  relations  to  them,  even 
in  the  highest  realm,  is  secured  partly  by  instinct- 
ive action ; and  necessarily  so,  because  Instinct 
gives  all  that  is  necessary  for  action,  which  we  can- 
not learn  by  observation  and  experience, — all  that 
is  necessary  as  a basis  for  experience,  as  well  as  the 
impulse  to  perform  certain  acts. 


Intuition. 


231 


Intuition,  on  the  other  hand,  relates  to  ab- 
stract truth,  to  all  that  is  necessary  as  a basis  for 
correct  reasoning,  and  for  conducting  the  process, 
— whether  in  the  field  of  pure  intellect  or  morals. 
What  we  know  intuitively,  will  always  be  true. 
What  we  know  insthictively , is  true  only  because 
this  order  of  things  is  what  it  is.  What  we  know 
intuitively,  we  cannot  believe  to  be  different  from 
what  it  is, — it  is  in  this  sense,  necessary  truth. 
What  we  believe  instinctively,  might  be  different 
from  what  it  is — it  is  contingent. 

Instinct,  then,  has  the  same  relation  to  action 
that  Intuition  has  to  thought,  or  the  logical  pro- 
cess. In  all  reasoning,  something  must  be  given  as 
known.  If  this  were  not  done,  no  reasoning  would 
be  possible.  In  acting,  something  must  be  given  as 
an  impulse  and  as  an  initial  directing  power,  or  knowl- 
edge from  experience  would  be  impossible, — there 
would,  in  our  actions,  be  no  relation  to  the  universe 
in  which  we  are  placed. 

The  use  of  Instinct  to  animals  and  men,  is  to 
give  them  impulses  to  action,  and  guidance  in 
spheres  where  the  appetites,  as  functional,  cannot 
reach,  to  start  them  in  the  right  direction,  and  to 
add  impulses  on  the  way,  at  the  same  time  giving 
such  knowledge  and  skill  as  could  not  be  gained 
by  experience, — or  perhaps  better,  to  secure  from 
them  such  action  as  could  not  otherwise  be  secured, 
without  such  an  experience  as  would  be  destruc- 
tive to  such  beings,  and  thus  be  constantly  defeat- 
ing the  end  for  which  they  were  made.  We  can 
best  illustrate  this  principle  by  referring  once  more 


232 


Instinct. 


to  examples  in  the  animal  kingdom  already  men- 
tioned. The  fowl  has  an  instinctive  fear  of  death, 
of  which  it  knows  nothing  as  yet.  Fear  is  given 
to  secure  the  requisite  action,  without  experience, 
because  the  experience  of  death  would  be  final, — 
there  would  be,  after  that,  no  chance  left  to  profit 
by  the  experience.  Therefore  a fear  is  given  to 
act  instinctively,  just  as  though  the  animal  had 
learned  all  the  terrors  of  death,  by  experience. 
Certain  animals,  also,  are  thrown  upon  the  world 
without  any  parental  protection.  All  such  animals 
act,  from  the  beginning,  in  securing  food  and  car- 
ing for  themselves,  as  though  they  had  already 
learned  many  things  by  experience.  The  young 
Salmon  wakes  to  life  far  up  in  the  cold  waters  of 
the  mountain  streams,  perhaps.  There  is  no  pa- 
rent, and  no  fish  of  experience  there  to  guide 
him,  or  from  which  he  can  learn.  At  least,  if  he 
learned  from  the  fishes  in  the  river  at  all,  it  would 
be  to  remain  there.  But  when  the  proper  time 
comes,  all  the  thousands  of  young  Salmon  start  for 
the  sea  as  their  appropriate  home,  although  .they 
have  never  seen  it.  They  act  exactly  as  though 
they  had  had  experience  of  the  provisions  of  the 
sea  for  their  use  ; and  it  is  necessary  for  their  well- 
being that  they  should  so  act.  So  much  of  im- 
pulse and  direction  must  be  given  to  them,  if  the 
species  is  to  exist  at  all.  The  fowl,  also,  has  not 
only  the  generic  fear  of  death,  instinctively,  which 
is  common  to  all  animals,  but  it  has  an  instinctive 
fear  of  certain  things  which  might  produce  death. 
The  fowl,  that  has  never  seen  a hawk,  and  can 


Uniformity  of  Nature. 


233 


know  nothing  of  his  nature  from  experience,  is 
convulsed  with  terror  at  the  sight  of  him.  This 
enemy  is  known  instinctively,  because  it  is  so  dead- 
ly an  enemy  that  knowledge  by  experience  would 
be  impossible  to  the  fowl ; or,  at  least,  destructive 
to  the  species.  It  is  necessary  for  the  preservation 
of  the  species,  that  a fowl  should  fear  a hawk  in- 
stinctively, as  well  as  that  it  should  fear  death  in- 
stinctively ; and  so  it  has  the  fear  of  both,  as  an 
original  outfit. 

The  abstract  notion  of  cause  and  effect,  and  of 
their  necessary  relation  to  each  other,  is  intuitive. 
This  notion  is  necessary  for  some  of  the  highest 
processes  of  reasoning  known  to  man,  if,  indeed,  we 
could  have  any  notion  of  such  processes  without 
the  gift  to  us  of  this  primary  knowledge.  But 
that  belief  in  the  uniformity  of  nature  which  in- 
fluences action,  is  not  intuitive — it  is  partly  instinct- 
ive and  partly  from  experience,  in  both  man  and 
animals.  Instinctive  knowledge  or  belief,  as  a ba- 
sis of  action,  is  given  to  both,  just  as  far  as  it  is 
needful  for  commencing  the  work  which  experience 
can  complete,  without  involving  the  absurdity  of 
destroying  the  species  in  gaining  the  experience. 
And  therefore  Instinct  gives  m.uch  more  impulse 
and  guidance  in  regard  to  nature,  to  animals,  than 
it  does  to  man,  and  much  more  to  some  species  of 
animals  than  to  others.  Facts  illustrative  of  this 
statement  will  occur  to  every  observer ; but  it  may 
not  be  amiss  to  discuss  still  farther  the  relation  of 
instinctive  knowledge  to  that  learned  from  expe- 
rience, in  regard  to  operations  in  nature. 


234 


Instinct. 


Belief  in  the  connection  of  cause  and  effect  is, 
as  we  have  said,  intuitive ; and  we  can  never  tell 
with  certainty,  that  an  animal  has  such  a notion. 
It  is  the  general  opinion  that  he  has  not.  But 
he  comes,  at  once,  into  a world  that  makes  an  im- 
pression upon  his  senses,  and  he  acts  instinctively 
as  though  he  believed  that  there  is  something 
without  him  which  causes  the  sensations.  He  be- 
lieves instinctively  in  an  external  world,  if  we  can 
judge  any  thing  by  his  acts.  But  all  that  we  are 
sure  of  is  that  his  acts  are  correlated  to  the  world. 

Undoubtedly,  it  is  true  of  man,  that  he  has  an 
instinctive  belief  in  the  uniformity  of  nature’s  laws. 
But  the  belief  that  any  particular  event,  the  ris- 
ing of  the  sun,  for  instance,  will  continue  to  occur, 
as  it  has  in  nature,  is  an  entirely  different  thing. 
Probably,  in  man,  such  belief  always  comes  from 
experience.  It  may  be  given  to  an  animal  without 
experience,  when  it  is  needful  for  him,  or  rather, 
for  the  species.  Men  plant  in  spring,  expecting  a 
harvest  in  autumn.  The  harvest  may  fail,  and  a 
particular  experience  is  needed  in  each  new  place, 
and  with  each  new  kind  of  seed,  to  learn  the  best 
time  of  planting,  and  the  best  methods  of  culture, 
to  secure  a crop.  Probably  the  use  of  seed,  by 
men,  for  planting,  is  entirely  the  result  of  observa- 
tion. Give  any  man  a new  seed,  and  he  may  be 
unable  to  secure  its  germination  even  ; or,  if  it  ger- 
minates, it  may  fail  to  produce  fruit,  because  he 
does  not  understand  its  nature.  It  is  plain  that 
man  has  no  instinctive  knowledge  to  guide  him  in 
securing  a crop.  In  the  only  case  known  in  which 


Uniformity  of  Nature. 


235 


animals,  the  ^^Agricultural  Ants''  * of  Texas,  raise, 
as  well  as  harvest,  a crop,  the  entire  process  is  so 
complex,  and  yet  uniform  in  all  places,  that  it 
seems  wholly  the  work  of  Instinct,  as  does  also  the 
care  of  other  species  of  Ants  for  their  herds  of  Apli- 
ides.\  The  expectation  that  there  will  be  rain  or 
snow  in  their  season,  probably  every  one  will  believe 
to  be  founded  on  observation  and  experience. 
More  persons  would  differ  as  to  our  belief  in  the 
uniform  order  of  the  seasons,  and  the  stated  return 
of  day  and  night.  But  little  thought  will  convince 
us  that  these  are  as  truly  contingent,  as  is  the  com- 
ing of  rain  and  snow.  The  cycles  are  so  great, 
that  we  do  not  note  the  irregularity  of  their  return ; 
but  we  see  agencies  at  work  that  might  change 
them  all,  and  probably  are  changing  them  all.  Our 
intuitive  belief  in  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect, 
remains ; but  we  learn  by  experience  alone,  the 
results  which  the  causes  now  acting  in  nature  pro- 
duce. What  has  been  always  uniform  in  our  ex- 
perience, we  expect  will  continue  so. 

Now  it  is  necessary  for  some  animals,  that  they 
should  act,  not  only  as  though  they  possessed  this 
generic  belief  in  causation,  but  that  they  should  also 
act  in  reference  to  contingent  events,  of  which  they 
have  had  no  experience.  This  is  also  a very  impor- 
tant point  in  the  argument.  The  Squirrel,  that  has 
never  seen  a winter,  lays  up  food  in  autumn  when, 
from  its  abundance  everywhere,  it  would  seem  that 


* “Homes  Without  Hands,”  (Wood),  pp.  370-372. 
f Kirby  and  Spence,  7th.  Ed.,  pp.  335,  336. 


236 


Instinct. 


he  had  least  need  of  doing  it.  Something  like  this 
is  seen  in  all  the  provisions  the  animal  makes  for 
the  change  of  seasons,  and  in  the  provisions  which 
Nature  makes  for  him.  Physiological  action  pre- 
pares his  body  with  a warm  coat,  as  winter  ap- 
proaches. And  if  his  food  must  fail  in  winter,  and 
it  is  of  such  a kind  that  he  cannot  store  it  up,  then 
Nature  brings  upon  him  a sleep,  which  saves  food, 
and  lasts  till  her  table  is  spread  for  him  again,  in 
spring  time. 

The  physical  systems  of  animals  and  their  in- 
stincts then,  do  have  relation  to  the  periodicity  of 
these  common,  contingent  events  in  the  order  of 
nature.  They  are  adjusted  to  the  length  of  the 
year,  and  even  to  the  angle  of  the  ecliptic  with  the 
equator.  Such  a relation  is  necessary  for  the  very 
existence  of  many  animals. 

There  is  no  proof  that  Nature  makes  any  special 
provision  in  man  for  the  change  of  seasons.  But 
she  has  given  to  his  system  a wonderful  power  of 
self-adjustment,  in  meeting  changes  of  climate  at 
all  times,  with  great  rapidity.  Man  was  made  to 
have  continuous  summer  or  winter,  as  he  might 
choose,  or  part  of  each ; and  to  learn,  by  experience, 
the  kind  and  amount  of  clothing  fitted  for  him. 
Mr.  Wallace  speaks  of  it  as  a strong  argument 
against  the  theory  that  man  originated  from  the 
lower  animals,  by  natural  selection,  that  no  hair 
is  ever  found  upon  his  back,  where  the  longest  and 
most  vigorous  hair  is  found  upon  the  lower  animals.^ 


* " Natural  Selection/’  p.  345. 


Purposes  of  Instincts. 


237 


It  is  also  true,  that  there  is  no  more  hair  upon 
northern  than  upon  southern  races.  As  Nature 
makes  no  provision,  in  the  system  of  man,  for  change 
of  seasons,  but  leaves  him  entirely  to  experience  as 
a guide,  so,  probably,  she  denies  to  him  any  pro- 
phetic instinct,  such  as  she  gives  to  certain  animals, 
by  which  they  provide  for  the  winter,  that  they 
have  never  seen  the  like  of. 

We  have  now  come  to  a point  in  the  discussion, 
where  we  shall  best  be  able  to  trace  the  instinctive 
principles  in  the  whole  nature  of  man,  by  enumer- 
ating the  purposes  for  which  these  principles  are 
needed  by  him.  They  will,  on  examination,  we 
think,  be  found  to  be  the  necessary  conditions : — 

1.  For  life — that  is,  the  continuance  of  the  in- 
dividual and  the  species. 

2.  For  progress^  of  the  individual  and  race — that 
is,  as  the  basis  or  condition  of  experience. 

3.  For  benevolence — including  under  this  term 
all  disinterested  labor  for  individuals  and  for  society, 
as  a whole,  from  natural  or  moral  impulses. 

4.  For  worship — including  all  specific  acts,  that 
acknowledge  God  and  duties  towards  Him,  or  rela- 
tions to  Him,  distinct  from  all  other  relations. 

The  instinctive  principles,  which  secure  these 
purposes,  may  be  simply  conditions,  or  occasions 
of  specific  actions ; or  they  may  be  self-directive 
and  self-controlling  in  the  performance  of  specific 
acts,  as  manifested  in  some  animals ; or  they  may 
be  mainly  impulsive  and  directive,  but  needing  con- 
trol and  limitation  in  their  action,  by  some  higher 
principle,  that  uses  them  as  servants.  And  some 


238 


Instinct. 


of  them  may  serve  more  than  one  of  these  pur- 
poses. 

The  instincts  of  the  animal,  so  far  as  they  seem  to 
relate  to  his  own  welfare,  appear  to  be  confined  main- 
ly, if  not  entirely,  to  the  first  class, — those  that  pre- 
serve life, — securing  to  him,  of  course,  so  much  enjoy- 
ment as  comes  by  the  normal  activity  of  his  powers 
which  never  secure  progress  through  the  agency  ot 
their  possessor  alone.  There  the  animal  stops ; but 
these  instincts  of  the  first  class,  in  man,  are  but  the 
stepping-stone  to  a higher  nature,  to  the  very  sum- 
mit of  which,  like  principles  of  action,  seem  to  be 
needed,  and  to  exist.  Certain  it  is,  that  man  has 
the  power  to  throw  down  over  these  instincts, 
which  he  has  in  common  with  the  brutes,  so  much 
of  his  higher  nature,  that  they  become  dignified, 
lovely,  and  the  source  of  happiness,  reacting  upon, 
and  aiding  all  that  is  above  them  ; or  he  may  aban- 
don these  instincts  to  their  own  uncontrolled  ac- 
tion, so  that  they  shall  work  out  a degradation  im- 
possible among  the  brutes. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  appetites  as  the  first 
condition,  of  the  exercise  of  those  instincts,  which 
tend  to  preserve  life.  There  may  be  certain  reflex- 
ive acts  which  have  been  mistaken  for  instinctive, 
but  probably  all  will  agree  that  a truly  instinctive 
act  involves  volition  in  some  stage  of  its  history. 
Every  voluntary  act  that  aims  at  some  relation  with 
the  external  world,  would  seem  to  involve  some 
notion  of  the  existence  of  such  a world.  We  re- 
gard this  notion  of  the  existence  of  an  external 
world  as  given,  as  the  instincts  are, — the  essential 


Primary  Beliefs, 


239 


outfit  of  every  man  and  of  every  animal  in  which 
there  is  truly  voluntary  action,  seeking  relations  to 
the  world.  Not  that  we  suppose  that  animals  or 
infants  ever  enunciate  this  truth  of  the  existence 
of  an  external  world  to  themselves,  or  have  any 
theories  or  ideas  respecting  it,  except  that  the 
belief  is  always  present,  as  an  element  in  the  im- 
pulse to  every  voluntary  act  seeking  an  end  in  the 
world  without  the  actor.  Belief  in  the  uniformity 
of  Nature’s  laws,  that  is,  that  gravitation,  or  cohe- 
sion, or  a specific  kind  of  matter,  under  the  same 
conditions,  will  always  produce  the  same  results,  we 
are  inclined,  also,  to  regard  as  an  original  gift. 

It  may  be  found  that  the  idea  of  causality  is  all 
that  is  constant,  and  that  the  rest  of  this  belief  is 
partly  instinctive  and  partly  inductive,  the  propor- 
tion that  is  instinctive  varying  according  to  the  im- 
perative demands  of  the  animal,  as  we  have  al- 
ready seen  is  the  case,  in  reference  to  those  events 
in  Nature  that  are  contingent,  depending  upon  the 
condition  of  the  causes  necessary  to  produce  them. 
At  least  we  are  compelled  to  treat  all  men,  and  all 
animals  that  we  desire  to  make  useful  to  us,  as 
though  they  had  either  instinctively,  or  as  an  in- 
duction, a belief  both  in  the  existence  of  an  exter- 
nal world  and  also  in  the  principle  of  causality,  in 
all  the  operations  of  nature.  So  much  for  the  con- 
ditions of  all  voluntary  action  from  the  lowest  to 
the  highest.  Experience,  as  a guide,  rests  upon 
them  and  would  be  useless  without  them. 

But  such  conditions  of  action  are  not  impulses 
to  action  ; and  these  we  want.  The  Appetites  we 


240 


Insttfict. 


have,  but  they  are  not  always  broad  enough  for  all 
the  wants  of  the  being,  and  therefore  instinctive 
impulses  are  found,  which  have  no  direct  connec- 
tion with  the  Appetites,  though  they  may  work  in 
the  same  direction  with  them,  or  supplement  their 
work.  And  among  these  instinctive  impulses,  we 
reckon  the  Desires^  so  called.  It  has  been  well  said 
by  President  Hopkins  that  the  desire  of  happiness 
is  generic.  It  is  interwoven  with  all  other  desires. 
It  is,  in  this  respect,  like  the  desire  of  life,  which  in- 
volves the  fear  of  death — though  probably  the  de- 
sire of  happiness,  in  man,  is  broader  than  the  desire 
of  life,  even.  The  desire  of  life  may  be  lost,  but 
the  desire  for  happiness  cannot  be.  Perhaps  how- 
ever, that  a strict  analysis  would  show  that  the  de- 
sire of  life  is  only  lost,  so  far  as  it  is  judged  to  be  a 
condition  of  suffering,  rather  than  of  enjoyment. 
And  that  the  prospect  of  happiness,  through  life> 
must  be  lost,  before  life  can  be  given  up,  without 
some  higher  purpose  than  the  suicide  has.  The 
desire  of  life  and  the  desire  of  happiness  are  the 
two  great  under-lying  instincts  into  which  all  others 
seem  to  strike  ; or  rather,  all  other  instincts  are  the 
special  methods  of  securing  the  demands  of  these, 
to  the  individual  or  the  species.  The  relations  to 
life  and  happiness,  of  the  things  instinctively  aimed 
at  by  any  being,  are  by  no  means  always  perceived 
by  that  being.  This  we  have  illustrated  by  many 
examples  during  this  discussion,  showing  it  to  be 
an  essential  characteristic  of  an  instinct,  that  it 
shall  act  promptly,  and  as  though  directed  by  In- 
telligence, where  the  good  of  the  being  absolutely 


Demands  of  Civilization. 


241 


demands  it,  though  the  being,  in  which  it  acts,  even 
man  himself,  may  be  as  ignorant  of  any  reason  for 
its  acting,  as  he  is  of  any  reason  for  sleep  or  hunger, 
except  that  they  come  in  consequence  of  a certain 
constitution  that  he  has,  he  knows  not  how. 

Of  the  instincts  which  belong  to  the  first  class, 
that  have  the  Appetites  as  their  basis,  which  are 
common  to  animals  and  men,  we  have  already 
treated  very  fully,  so  far  as  they  act  by  themselves. 

We  propose  here  only  to  call  attention  to  the 
peculiar  action  of  these  instincts  in  the  human  spe- 
cies, as  needing  direction  and  limitation,  from  some 
principle  distinct  from  themselves,  and  higher. 
The  appetite  for  food  is  given  to  man,  as  to  all 
other  animals ; but  the  choice  of  food,  its  produc- 
tion, preservation  and  preparation,  are,  with  man, 
things  to  be  learned  by  observation  and  experiment. 
Here  he  stands  upon  entirely  different  ground  from 
any  of  the  lower  animals.  Great  advances  have 
been  made  within  a century,  in  our  ability  to  prop- 
erly administer  to  the  demands  of  the  appetite  for 
food.  Millions  of  acres  of  our  domain,  have  been 
devoted  to  these  experiments,  and  we  have  but  just 
begun  to  learn  what  is  best  for  men  to  eat,  to  meet 
the  demands  that  are  made  upon  them,  and  to 
ward  off  the  diseases  to  which  they  are  exposed. 
While  man  lives  like  an  animal,  this  is  a simple 
matter;  but  under  a high  civilization,  it  is  complex 
and  demands  for  its  treatment,  powers  entirely  dif- 
ferent from  any  thing  that  we  can  call  instinctive. 
And  civilization  is  the  true  state  of  man,  so  that 
II 


242 


histinct. 


the  appetite  for  food,  which,  in  the  animal,  will 
take  care  of  itself, — in  man,  becomes  the  occasion 
of  study,  of  experiment,  and  of  discussion.  It  not 
only  aids  in  building  up  the  body,  but  it  calls  upon 
the  mind  for  counsel,  as  to  how  it  may  best  perform 
its  work. 

In  all  that  relates  to  the  sexes,  we  recognize 
strong  impulses  from  Appetite  and  Instinct,  but  in 
every  direction  see  the  need  of  control  and  restraint 
from  some  power  entirely  distinct  from  the  appe- 
tite, or  the  instincts  connected  with  it. 

To  say  nothing  of  the  mistakes  of  marriage, 
where  even  Reason  and  Pride  are  not  strong  enough 
to  prevent  wretchedness,  we  often  see  the  instinct- 
ive love  of  parents  ruining  their  children,  in  its 
blind  efforts  to  secure  their  good.  Conjugal,  pa- 
rental, and  filial  affections  are  as  purely  instinctive 
in  men  as  in  the  brutes,  and  belong  primarily  to  the 
animal  nature — have  their  first  impulses  from  that. 
But  in  man,  they  may  be  the  source  of  suffering  and 
degradation,  defeating  the  end  for  which  they  were 
given,  or  they  may  extend  much  farther  than  it  is 
possible  for  them  to,  among  animals,  and  be  lifted 
up  into  a sphere  of  beauty  and  permanence,  un- 
known to  animal  life ; mingling  with  all  the  in- 
stincts and  powers  of  that  higher  nature,  by  which 
they  must  be  controlled,  if  at  all. 

Husbands  and  wives,  parents  and  children ! 
We  have  but  to  look  abroad  in  the  world  to  see 
that  the  relations  which  these  words  suggest,  pro- 
duce the  greatest  blessings  and  the  greatest  suffer- 
ings which  this  world  knows, — and  that  all  the  suf- 


Need  of  Law. 


243 


faring,  which  we  most  deplore,  comes  from  ignorance 
and  want  of  control  of  those  appetites,  passions, 
and  impulses  which  in  animals  are  self-directive, 
but  in  man  must  be  put  under  restraint  and  guid- 
ance from  something  entirely  beyond  their  own 
sphere. 

We  hear  much  about  civil  laws  as  regulating 
these  matters.  And  here  we  see  the  need  of  it  ; 
because  these  instincts  are  not  self-regulative  in 
man.  They  are  to  be  governed  by  Reason  and  Con- 
science ; and  because  these  are  too  weak  in  many 
individuals,  there  must  be  law,  which  is  the  expres- 
sion of  the  public  reason  and  conscience,  called  into 
requisition  to  secure  the  best  interests  of  all.  And 
the  only  hope  for  proper  laws,  is  in  an  enlightened 
conscience  in  the  majority. 

But  to  untangle  this  snarl  of  the  past  genera- 
tions, will  require  much  time  and  patience  ; and  we 
fear  it  will  not  be  made  straight  till  much  more 
mischief  has  been  done,  and  men  learn  from  a long, 
sad  experience,  what  the  true  bounds  of  these  in- 
stinctive principles  in  man  are,  and  have  wisdom 
and  moral  strength  to  give  these  principles  that 
guidance  and  limitation,  which  they  have  no  power 
to  give  themselves. 

Distinct  from  the  instincts,  that  secure  the  fam- 
ily relation,  we  have  also  considered  the  desire  for 
society,  which  may  be  called  an  instinct.  It  is  to 
some  extent  ultimate  in  its  action,  as  securing  en- 
joyment to  men  and  animals,  in  virtue  of  their  very 
constitution.  But  in  man,  this  desire  secures  the 
conditions  for  the  operation  of  those  instincts  of  the 


244 


Instinct, 


second  class,  by  which  the  progress  of  the  race  is 
mainly  secured.  Society  is,  certainly,  a necessary 
condition  for  the  exercise  of  some  of  the  instincts 
of  this  class,  as  will  be  readily  seen,  when  they  are 
mentioned. 

Prominent  among  the  desires  which  belong  to 
this  second  class,  that  secure  progress,  are  the  de- 
sire of  knowledge,  the  desire  of  property,  of  power 
and  of  esteem.  The  desire  of  knowledge,  of  prop- 
erty, and  of  power,  in  a certain  degree,  may  be  ne- 
cessary for  securing  life,  or  the  best  conditions  of  liv- 
ing. But  in  man,  the  impulse  in  each  of  these  de- 
sires, certainly,  goes  beyond  what  the  preservation 
of  life  demands  ; and  plainly  points  to  progress  of 
the  individual  and  the  race,  as  its  final  cause.  That 
desire  ofknowledge  which  leads  to  study  and  in- 
vestigation for  its  own  sake,  prepares  the  way  by 
years  and  ages  of  toil,  observation  and  experiment, 
for  those  grand  discoveries  in  science  and  practical 
applications  of  science,  that  now  make  the  globe 
and  all  its  forces,  the  servant  of  man.  The  steam- 
boats, telegraphs,  and  other  marvels  of  our  age, 
come  to  us  as  the  fruit  of  study,  that  had  no  prom- 
ise of  reward  when  the  work  was  done.  Love  of 
knowledge  led  men  in  the  past,  and  is  still  leading 
them,  where  there  is  no  prospect  of  gain.  But  on 
the  other  hand,  the  desire  of  property  obeyed  in 
other  individuals,  has  given  that  accumulation  of 
capital  which  makes  these  grand  enterprises  of  our 
day  possible.  Love  of  esteem  in  man,  seems  main- 
ly for  the  benefit  of  society  in  securing  from  each 


245 


Faith. 

one,  those  acts  towards  society  and  each  member 
of  it,  which  shall  be  best  for  both.  These  desires 
differ  greatly  in  their  strength,  as  a whole,  or  in 
their  comparative  strength,  even  in  members  of  the 
same  family.  They  may  be  strengthened  by  exer- 
cise, but  are  never  weakened  by  it.  One  of  them 
may  be  brought  to  the  aid  of  the  other,  or  be  made 
subservient  to  it,  as  when  knowledge  is  sought  for 
the  sake  of  the  power  it  will  give  ; or  knowledge, 
property,  and  power  are  all  sought  for  the  sake  of 
the  esteem  they  will  secure.  Either  of  these  in- 
stincts may  become  the  master,  and  all  the  others 
ready  servants ; but  the  one  that  is  master  has  no 
power  of  rightly  controlling  or  limiting  its  own  ac- 
tion even.  The  controlling  and  limiting  power  is 
still  beyond. 

Very  different  in  its  action  from  the  Desires,  but 
standing  high,  as  an  instinctive  principle  of  progress, 
is  Faith^  or  confidence  in  persons.  It  may  be 
shaken,  or  directed  in  its  action  by  experience,  but 
it  does  not  come  from  experience.  So  strong  is  it, 
that  no  amount  of  suffering  from  lying  and  deceit, 
will  destroy  a man’s  trust  in  the  words  of  all  his  fel- 
low-men. It  is  natural  for  him  to  believe  them, 
and  to  trust  them,  as  soon  as  the  time  comes  when 
it  is  necessary  that  he  should  trust  them.  In  child- 
hood the  trust  is  mainly  centred  on  the  parent,  or 
the  one  in  the  parent’s  place,  as  it  is  best  for  the 
welfare  of  the  child  it  should  be. 

Although  we  may  say,  in  our  haste,  that  all  men 
are  liars,  we  naturally  trust  men,  till  we  have  been 
often  deceived  ; and  then  we  distrust  them  only 


246  Instinct. 

when  we  think  they  have  some  motive  for  deceiv- 
ing us. 

We  find  also  another  principle  of  action  that 
secures  progress,  though  the  impulse  to  the  action, 
in  some  cases  at  least,  seems  to  be  Benevolence, — 
the  object  of  which  is  to  secure  happiness.  We  re- 
fer to  the  disposition  of  men  to  do  what  they  can 
for  the  generations  that  are  to  come  after  them, 
without  any  reference  to  direct  relationship.  We 
are  disposed  to  think  the  impulse  is  an  instinctive 
one,  which  becomes  strengthened  and  directed  by 
specific,  benevolent,  social  instincts.  All  such  ac- 
tion is  so  opposed  to  selfishness  that  we  must  look 
to  see  it  constantly  repressed,  and  warped  from  its 
free  exercise.  Its  existence,  as  a distinct  principle, 
may  be  doubted  ; for  the  instinct,  if  it  be  one,  is 
complex  in  its  action,  and  in  many  cases,  may  be  so 
intertwined  with,  or  obscured  by,  the  action  of 
other  instincts,  as  to  be  lost  sight  of. 

Man  desires  to  be  remembered  ; and  it  may  be 
said  this  desire  leads  him  to  do  what  shall  be  bene- 
ficial to  the  coming  generations.  Undoubtedly 
this  is  so,  but  in  addition  to  this  mode  of  gratify- 
ing the  love  of  esteem,  there  is,  probably,  an  in- 
stinct that  leads  him  to  do  work  for  those  whom  he 
has  never  seen,  and  who  will  never  hear  of  his 
name.  The  old  man  plants  trees,  the  fruit  of 
which  he  never  expects  to  pluck.”  And  he  does 
this  without  any  necessary  relation  to  family  connec- 
tions, though  these  may  come  in  with  their  influ- 
ences, to  strengthen  and  direct  this  impulse. 


Self-Regulation, 


247 


We  recognize  this  principle  in  our  building,  and 
public  enterprises,  and  in  our  laws,  which  secure 
property  for  generations,  and  make  permanent  cor- 
porations. 

This  instinct  might  be  reckoned  as  belonging  to 
the  third  class,  which  are  benevolent  in  their  action, 
as  we  have  already  intimated,  as  well  as  to  the  sec- 
ond ; for  the  division  we  have  made  cannot  be 
sharply  defined,  as  many  of  the  desires  and  prin- 
ciples of  action  have  several  relations ; and  any 
one  of  them  can  be  made  the  servant  of  another, 
as  has  been  shown.  But  among  the  instinctive 
principles,  which  are  strictly  benevolent,  are  pity 
and  mercy. 

In  our  investigations  thus  far,  we  have  found,  in 
animals,  all  that  they  need  for  working  out  the 
best  results,  which  it  seems  possible  for  such  beings 
to  reach.  They  have  impulse,  guidance,  and  limita- 
tion of  action  secured  in  the  very  nature  of  their  ap- 
petites and  instincts.  Each  one  of  these  is  so  far 
self-regulative,  as  to  make  it  best  for  the  individ- 
ual or  the  species,  that  it  shall  have  activity  un- 
controlled by  any  power  beyond  its  own  sphere. 
The  best  condition  which  we  can  conceive  of  for 
an  animal,  when  free  from  the  disturbing  influences 
of  domestication,  is  to  let  him  have  an  abundance 
of  every  thing  needful  to  him,  and  then  let  him 
have  entire  liberty  to  follow  every  impulse. 

Not  so  with  man.  We  have  found  in  him 
strong  impulses, — impulses  and  instinctive  prin- 


248 


Instinct. 


ciples  of  action  of  as  wide  a range  as  any  animal 
has, — and  more  still  remain  to  be  considered.  We 
find,  as  yet,  nothing  to  direct  and  limit  these 
impulses,  to  secure  the  highest  good  of  man.  We 
can  hardly  think  of  a worse  condition  for  man,  than 
to  supply  him  with  every  thing  needful  for  him, 
and  then  for  him  to  give  himself  up,  as  animals 
may,  to  every  impulse.  The  voice  of  the  whole 
thinking  world  is,  that  there  must  be  in  man  a 
power  of  self-control, — something  outside  of  these 
activities,  of  which  we  have  been  speaking, — some- 
thing that  experiments  with  them,  observes  their 
action  and  determines  their  proper  sphere  of  ac- 
tion, allowing  one  to  act,  and  keeping  another  in 
abeyance,  in  spite  of  its  clamors  ; in  fact,  ruling 
them,  and  making  them  its  servants.  This  higher 
power  seeks  for,  and  determines  the  Law  of  Lhn- 
itation,  so  fully  explained  by  President  HoPKINS. 
This  law  is,  that  every  power  in  ina7t  must  be  used  so 
far ^ and  only  so  far^  as  it  is  a condition  of  activity 
for  the  next  higher  power.  This  limit  of  action  for 
each  power,  the  man  must  himself  determine.  And 
when  that  has  once  been  determined,  the  high^  ruL 
mg  power  within  him,  confines  each  of  these  ser- 
vants to  its  own  place,  and  exacts  of  it  the  la- 
bor required  for  the  good  of  the  whole. — It  may 
learn  much  from  these  servants  skilled  in  their  own 
departments  of  labor,  but  it  never  should  lose  con- 
trol of  them.  In  that  man,  where  this  ruler  is 
well  informed,  and  uses  the  power  which  rightful- 
ly belongs  to  him,  there  is  the  order,  harmony, 
happiness  and  progress  of  a well-ordered  king- 


249 


The  Higher  Nature, 

dom.  But  where  the  ruler  is  misled  by  ignorance, 
or  fails  through  weakness  or  negligence,  to  control 
his  subordinates,  there  is  riot,  waste,  rebellion  and 
ruin. 

We  speak  of  this  higher  naUire,  which  rules  in 
man  as  07ie^  and  so  it  is  one,  as  something  added  to 
the  animal  nature ; but  it  mvolves  distinct  methods 
of  activity^  which  our  present  purpose  does  not  re- 
quire us  to  fully  analyze.  We  shall  only  speak  of 
this  higher  nature  in  man  as  ruling  the  lower  ac- 
tivities, and  trace  instinctive  impulses  into  it,  and 
beyond  it,  into  the  strictly  religious  nature ; in 
both  of  which,  these  principles  appear  abundantly, 
thus  giving  a whole  field  of  instinctive  activities 
in  man,  which  either  never  exist  in  the  lower  ani- 
mals ; or,  if  they  exist  in  them,  they  are  beyond 
our  power  of  discovery. 

The  instincts  of  the  higher  and  lower  nature 
of  man  are  in  constant  conflict,  because  the  lower 
are  not  limited,  but  are  constantly  pushing  beyond 
their  proper  bounds,  as  they  never  do  in  animals. 
If  the  higher  gain  the  day,  man  is  worthy  of  the 
place  he  was  made  to  fill,  as  the  image  of  God  and 
ruler  of  the  globe, — having  dominion  over  all  its 
creatures,  and  over  his  own  animal  nature.  But  if 
the  animal  instincts  take  the  control,  there  is  no 
limit  to  his  possible  degradation. 

The  animal  powers  of  man  must  be  governed, 
then,  because  they  are  not  self-regulative.  They 
must  be  limited,  and  directed  in  their  action,  by 
some  power  or  set  of  powers  above  them.  This 
power  the  man  has  ; or  more  strictly,  he  has  a com- 


250 


Instinct. 


binatlon  of  powers,  which  makes  him  a ruler  of  him- 
self, through  the  sovereign  act  of  a free  personality. 
The  very  fact  that  his  lower  propensities, — the 
Appetites  and  Instincts^ — are  not  self-regulative  as 
in  animals,  but  are  capable  of  terrific  power,  even 
destructive  power,  when  left  to  themselves,  shows 
them  to  be  admirably  adapted  for  service.  No 
matter  how  powerful  any  agency  is,  if  it  be  directed 
and  controlled.  The  more  powerful  it  is  the  bet- 
ter. Steam,  and  gunpowder,  and  gravitation  are 
powerful.  How  destructive  they  are  in  their  un- 
controlled action  ! How  they  crush  and  rend  and 
kill ! But  the  steam,  when  controlled,  bridges  the 
ocean,  brings  distant  cities  together,  and,  in  the 
workshop,  does  the  labor  of  millions  of  men.  Gun- 
powder levels  the  mountains,  and  opens  the  riches 
of  the  mines.  Gravitation  crowds  the  waters 
through  the  wheel,  and  gives  us  a power  that  needs 
no  fire  nor  fuel  for  its  continued  strength.  What 
these  powerful  agencies  are  as  servants,  when  con- 
trolled and  directed  by  bands  of  iron,  the  animal 
instincts  are  when  under  control  of  that  power  in 
man,  appointed  to  give  them  law.  What,  now,  are 
the  powers  which  this  ruling  principle  in  man  must 
have,  or  rather,  that  the  man  must  have,  in  order 
to  rule  himself?  We  will  not  attempt  an  enumer- 
ation of  them  singly,  for  that  would  carry  us  on 
to  the  ground  of  the  Mental  and  Moral  Philoso- 
pher, where  contests  are  always  raging  in  regard  to 
definitions  and  the  classification  of  the  powers.  We 
shall  speak  of  these  powers,  singly  or  in  groups,  ac- 
cording to  their  office  in  this  governing  work. 


Power  of  Comprehension^ 


251 


And  first  of  all,  as  a means  of  rightly  performing 
this  work,  there  must  be  Comprehension.  The  man 
must,  by  some  power  or  set  of  powers,  be  as  capable 
of  understanding  all  his  own  powers,  from  the  low- 
est to  the  highest,  in  their  capabilities,  and  uses,  as 
he  is  of  comprehending  any  thing  in  the  world  with- 
out him,  upon  which  he  can  experiment  to  advan- 
tage. 

This  comprehending  power  must,  also,  be  able 
to  give  to  the  man  an  understanding  of  his  relations 
to  the  world, — to  make  him  a progressive  being, 
this  power  must  furnish  the  means  of  constantly 
adding  to  his  knowledge — of  widening  its  own 
sphere,  and  improving  its  own  action. 

The  full  comprehension  of  all  the  powers,  activ- 
ities and  impulses,  and  of  the  relations  of  the  man 
possessing  these  to  the  world,  is  the  highest  intel- 
lectual act  possible,  so  far  as  the  well-being  of  the 
man  himself,  in  this  world,  is  concerned.  It  is  a 
thing  so  seldom  done,  that  it  is  no  wonder  that, 
“ Know  Thyself,”  should,  for  so  many  ages,  have 
been  considered  one  of  the  wisest  of  all  sayings ; 
and  that  the  practice  of  the  precept,  should  be  con- 
sidered wisdom  itself.  This  precept  has,  perhaps, 
never  been  perfectly  obeyed,  either  in  the  knowing 
of  one’s  self  or  in  the  action,  which  seems  to  be 
necessarily  implied,  as  the  result  of  knowing.  And 
as  society  becomes  more  complex  in  its  organiza- 
tion, and  the  relations  of  every  man  become  more 
widely  extended,  this  knowledge  of  self  as  related 
to  the  world,  becomes  more  difficult.  Perhaps  the 
difficulty  of  the  problem  increases  as  fast  as  the 


252 


Instinct. 


means  are  provided  to  aid  in  its  solution.  It  can 
only  be  approximately  solved,  at  mature  age,  and  af- 
ter careful  education,  for  its  solution  requires  trained 
powers  and  knowledge  acquired  by  the  experience 
and  observation  of  ourselves  and  others.  On  this 
account,  it  is  a natural  thing  for  man  to  remain 
under  parental  control,  till  this  condition  of  acting 
is  reached.  Nothing  but  a felt  necessity  for  this, 
would  justify  the  long  minority  of  young  men. 
They  must  be  controlled  by  others,  and  be  fur- 
nished with  knowledge  by  experience,  and  observa- 
tion and  instruction,  because  they  have  neither  suf- 
ficient knowledge  nor  self-control,  insdnctively,  as 
animals  have,  to  enable  them  to  reach  the  best  re- 
sults, when  left  to  follow  every  natural  impulse. 

This  power  of  comprehension  is  generally  exer- 
cised in  a very  imperfect  manner,  in  the  act  of 
establishing  those  relations  with  the  world,  which 
naturally  determine  the  direction  of  a man’s  activ- 
ities for  life.  Even  under  the  best  conditions  of 
society,  the  impulses  are  often  followed  blindly  for 
awhile  ; and  then  comprehension  comes  in,  and  find- 
ing the  work  well  begun,  completes  it, — or,  finding 
it  wrongly  commenced,  abandons  it  and  begins 
anew  ; or  makes  the  best  of  a bad  case,  too  far  gone 
to  be  rectified.  In  other  cases,  it  never  does  its 
appropriate  work ; and  the  man  floats  through  the 
world  like  a stick  of  drift-timber.  In  other  cases 
still,  where  there  is  clear  comprehension  of  rela- 
tions and  powers,  and  of  desirable  results,  there 
seems  to  be  too  little  ability  to  restrain  or  con- 
trol the  lower  powers,  and  make  them  servants ; 


Prudence. 


253 


and  the  man  is  driven  in  this  direction  or  in  that 
according  to  the  subordinate  impulse  that  has  usurp- 
ed supreme  power.  The  man  is  made  a curse  to 
the  world,  and  a ruin,  by  being  under  the  control 
of  some  appetite  or  instinct,  which  he  knows  he 
ought  to  control,  or  which  the  common  judgment 
of  the  world  declares  he  ought.  We  begin  at  this 
point  to  see  what  a wide  difference  there  is  be- 
tween man, — when  we  consider  his  whole  nature, — 
and  the  highest  even,  of  the  lower  animals.  For 
the  perfection  of  animals,  no  such  power  of  com- 
prehension, as  we  have  described,  is  needed.  Their 
relations  to  the  world  are  simple,  and  are  fixed  in 
the  best  manner  by  impulse.  The  relations  of  man, 
on  the  other  hand,  are  of  the  most  complex  nature, 
so  that  it  may  be  said,  that  each  man  has  a mission, 
something  to  do  in  the  world  different  from  what 
every  other  one  has  to  do. 

New  spheres  of  activity  open  before  him,  and  as 
he  enters  each,  there  has  often  to  be  an  entire  new 
use  of  some  lower  activity,  or  an  entire  new  adjust- 
ment of  all  the  lower  activities, — some  being  re- 
pressed which  were  formerly  stimulated,  and  others 
brought  into  activity  that  were  formerly  kept  in 
abeyance. 

Now  we  can  conceive  of  a being  having  all  the 
lower  activities,  and  the  comprehension,  that  be- 
longs to  man,  simply  as  a rational  being,  and  these 
powers  alone,  with  will.  Such  a being,  with  the 
capacity  of  enjoyment  and  suffering,  through  the 
sensibility  connected  with  all  these  lower  activities, 
would  become,  in  his  highest  estate,  a prudent  be- 


254 


Instinct. 


ing.  Every  act  would  be  from  his  judgment  of 
expediency  in  promoting  pleasure  or  avoiding  suf- 
fering. Everything  would  be  reduced  to  the  level 
of  that  action,  by  which  a man  cuts  his  wood  in 
season  to  have  it-dry  in  winter,  or  puts  his  kindling 
in  betcer  shape  and  provides  it  in  larger  quantities, 
as  the  clouds  and  winds  betoken  increased  cold. 
If  he  acted  for  children  or  friends,  it  would  be  from 
a natural  impulse  alone,  as  animals  act  in  caring 
for  their  kind.  With  such  beings  the  word  ex- 
pedient would  be  the  highest  in  enforcing  action  ; 
but,  OUGHT,  with  the  signification  it  now  has,  would 
be  unknown. 

Now,  in  man,  we  find  another  wonderful  im- 
pulse to  action  making  a part  of  his  higher  nature, 
and  by  which  all  the  lower  instincts  and  powers 
maybe  intensified  in  action,  or  be  kept  in  abeyance. 
This  is  Obligation,  or  the  Sense  of  Obligation.  It  is 
not  only  ultimate,  like  the  impulses  of  the  lower 
nature,  but  it  is  the  highest  impulse — ultimate  in 
our  analysis  of  man,  as  a moral  being.  As  it  be- 
longs to  man  to  comprehend  the  action  of  all  his 
lower  powers,  and  the  use  and  proper  limit  of  each 
one  of  them,  this  higher  impulse  grapples  on  to 
every  one  of  them  to  restrain  or  quicken  them.  If, 
now,  the  knowledge  of  man  were  perfect,  this  Sense 
of  Obligation  would  be  a sure  guide,  and  every  act 
in  accordance  with  its  impulse  would  be  the  best 
possible.  If  the  will  were  strong  enough  to  secure 
every  act  that  Obligation  demands,  man  would 
be  a perfect  being.  Mistake  in  action  would  be  im- 
possible. Perfect  comprehension  of  the  best  rela- 


Law  of  Man's  Being. 


255 


tions,  a sense  of  obligation  to  act  in  accordance  with 
these  relations,  and  strength  of  will  to  carry  out  the 
demands  of  Obligation,  would  be  as  perfect  an  outfit 
for  man  as  we  find  in  the  animals,  in  their  self-limit- 
ing and  self-directing  instincts.  This  outfit  would  be 
perfect  in  its  action,  but  occupying  a field  where  un- 
limited progress  would  not  only  be  possible,  but 
the  natural  result.  It  is  the  belief  of  many  that 
man  was  created  in  this  state.  However  that  may 
be,  he  is  in  no  such  condition  now.  He  makes  sad 
mistakes,  when  he  does  the  best  he  knows ; and  he 
weakly,  or  perversely,  gives  up  to  impulses  which 
he  knows  ought  to  be  restrained.  If  we  were  to 
judge  by  the  results  of  human  life  alone,  we  should 
conclude  that  there  is  no  law  of  man’s  being.  For 
nothing  can  be  greater  than  the  differences  of  char- 
acter between  men  of  the  same  city  and,  oftentimes, 
of  the  same  family.  Searching  for  a law  among  so 
many  discordant  elements,  to  one  compelled  to 
judge  of  man’s  nature  only  from  these  results  which 
he  daily  sees,  would  seem,  at  first,  to  be  a hopeless 
task.  Is  man  then  without  a law  of  his  being  which 
may  guide  him  in  his  higher  life  ? While  animals 
have  a law  within  them,  which  is  like  gravitation 
to  the  planets  that  guides  them  forever  in  their  or- 
bits, has  man  no  impulse  which  will  tend  to  direct 
his  course?  Are  the  best  specimens  of  humanity, 
after  all,  only  accidents?  We  think  not.  And 
we  think  that  law  and  guide  of  action  within  man 
will  be  found  in  THE  SENSE  OF  OBLIGATION,  when 
considered  in  all  its  demands,  and  in  relation  to  all 
the  other  provisiohs  made  for  him. 


LECTURE  XI. 

THE  MORAL  INSTINCTS — OBLIGATION. 

Law  of  Being  defined. — Relation  of  Men  atid  animals  to  this  law. — 
Conditions  under  which  Obligation  arises. — Man's  Freedom. — Self- 
denial. — Effects  of  Ignorance. — Relation  of  Obligation  to  the  Judg- 
ment.— Double  action  of  Obligation. — Doing  right  because  it  is 
Right. — Obligation  to  do  justly. — Four  Manifestations  of  Obliga- 
tion.— Its  action  compared  with  the  Instincts. — Its  relation  to  Pro- 
gress.— Moral  Conflicts. — Choice. — Free  Personality. — Accountabil- 
ity.— Remorse. — Man  compared  with  an  animal. — Moral  powers 
always  found  in  him. — The  perfection  and  sphere  of  the  Animal. — 
The  sphere  of  Mari! s Action. 

We  have  traced  the  instinctive  principles,  in  man’s 
animal  nature,  to  find  their  method  of  action,  and 
the  means  by  which  they  are  controlled.  We  have 
found  these  principles  in  him,  capable  of  terrific 
power,  and  fitted  by  this  power  for  efficient  service, 
if  they  can  be  rightly  directed.  To  find  a control- 
ling power  for  them,  we  are  compelled  to  pass  be- 
yond the  animal  instincts  themselves,  to  a higher 
nature.  As  the  agency  to  enable  man  himself  to 
guide  and  limit  the  action  of  his  animal  instincts, 
he  needs  a Comprehending  power.,  to  show  him  the 
relation  of  all  his  acts  to  results,  and  the  relation 
of  all  subordinate  results,  to  his  highest  good.  He 
needs  the  power  of  Choice, — when  different  ends  are 
comprehended, — in  addition  to  that  executive  vo- 


Law  of  Being  Defined,  257 

lition,  which  he  has,  in  common  with  the  brutes, — 
and,  last  of  all,  he  needs  the  Sense  of  Obligation^  as 
the  highest  possible  impulse  to  action. 

It  was  suggested,  in  the  last  lecture,  that  we 
should  find  in  the  sense  of  obligation,  considering 
all  its  demajids  and  relations^  the  true  law  of  human 
action,  as  we  find  in  the  lower  instincts,  the  law  of 
animal  activity.  And  by  the  law  of  action,  for  any 
being,  we  mean  that  within  him^  which  guides^  or 
tends  to  guide  him^  to  that  end  for  which  he  was  made. 
So  men,  as  well  as  animals,  have  within  them  an 
impulse  urging  them  to  seek  the  end  for  which  they 
were  made,  only  men  are  left  to  learn  what  that 
end  is,  from  the  study  of  the  impulse,  and  to  guide 
themselves  towards  it,  by  the  use  of  all  their  high- 
er powers, — while  the  guidance  to  the  animal  comes 
from  his  organic  development,  and  is  towards  an  end, 
of  which  he  knows  nothing.  We  see,  on  every  hand, 
the  sufficiency  of  the  instincts,  as  a guide  to  ani- 
mals ; while  in  man,  these  same  instincts  need  con- 
trol from  some  power  beyond  them.  If  we  find 
Obligation  to  be  such  a controlling  power,  either 
alone  or  with  the  aid  of  other  powers,  we  shall  be 
satisfied. 

It  is  not  with  us  a question,  now,  how  animals 
or  man  came  by  any  of  these  powers.  It  is  a ques- 
tion of  possession,  and  of  the  nature  and  value  of 
the  possession. 

Let  us  now  try  to  find  the  facts  in  the  case, 
without  being  bound  by  any  preconceived  notion 
or  favorite  definition. 

In  the  first  place,  when  two  courses  of  action  are 


258 


Instinct. 


open  before  us,  so  that  we  can  contemplate  them 
and  their  results,  there  may  arise  a sense  of  obliga- 
tion, for  us  to  enter  upon  one  course  rather  than  the 
other. 

This  sense  of  obligation  may  be  entirely  dis- 
tinct from  any  notion  of  expediency  or  pleasure  to 
ourselves.  It  is  undoubtedly  true  that  the  highest 
expediency  and  pleasure  will  ultimately  be  found  in 
the  line  of  obligation  ; but  a conviction  of  this,  is  not 
necessary  as  a condition  for  the  impulse  of  obliga- 
tion. But  it  is  also  to  be  said  that  obligation  al- 
ways demands  the  good  of  the  higher  nature,  when 
that  is  discerned,  and  the  good  of  the  higher  nature 
never  conflicts  with  the  good  of  any  other  being. 

The  impulses  of  the  animal  nature  impel  us 
where  present  pleasure  or  animal  enjoyment  can  be 
secured, — oftentimes  against  the  good  of  others, — 
but  obligation  may  demand  that  every  good  of  our 
lower  nature,  even  life  itself,  be  sacrificed  for  the 
good  of  our  higher.  That  is,  the  sense  of  obliga- 
tion, so  far  as  it  acts  from  our  contemplation  of 
good,  always  demands  that  the  animal  in  us  be  the 
servant  of  the  human. 

This  sense  of  obligation  is  ever  urging  man  on 
to  discover  the  true  end  of  his  being  and  to  attain 
it.  But  he  has  the  power  of  going  against  this  im- 
pulse, and  of  yielding  himself  to  any  one  of  the 
lower  impulses  of  his  nature,  or  we  should  not  have 
true  freedom  ; and  he  often  goes  against  it,  through 
ignorance  or  perverseness,  in  various  wa3^s,  or  we 
should  have  as  uniform  results  in  human  life  as 
among  animals.  Animal  life  reaches  its  end  by  a 


Obligation.  259 

self-adjusting  machinery  so  powerful  as  to  control 
the  animal.  It  is  left  to  man  alone  to  discover  what 
the  end  of  his  being  is,  and  then  to  act  in  conform- 
ity with  the  law  that  guides  him  towards  that  end, 
or  against  that  law. 

Man  is  under  obligation  to  promote  the  great- 
est good  of  all  beings,  himself  included.  To  yield 
obedience  to  this  demand  of  obligation  is  one  of  the 
great  acts  of  life,  and  one  demanding  what  is  called 
great  self-denial ; for  it  involves  a constant  struggle 
with  all  the  lower  propensities  of  our  nature.  Wise 
self-denial — all  that  is  ever  demanded  and  all  that 
it  is  right  for  a man  to  make — is  the  control  of  any 
appetite  or  impulse  when  it  conflicts  with  a higher 
good.  This,  even,  may  be  like  cutting  off  a right 
hand  or  plucking  out  a right  eye. 

But  another  great  difficulty  arises  here,  which 
follows  every  man  through  life, — the  want  of  knowl- 
edge, which  shall  enable  him  to  act  in  conformity 
to  that  high  law  of  his  being,  which  he  knows  to  be 
good,  and  to  which  he.  may  desire  to  conform. 

The  same  thing  is  illustrated  in  the  case  of  his 
body.  He  is  compelled  to  suffer  many  things, — 
pain  and  sorrow  and  early  death, — because,  per- 
chance, he  ignorantly  builds  his  house  where  poi- 
sons exhale  from  the  earth.  He  may  know  that 
there  is  a law  of  health,  but  in  attempting  to  follow 
it,  his  ignorance  leads  him  into  all  sorts  of  pitfalls. 

Has  man  then  no  guide  towards  the  end  of  his 
being,  before  that  end  is  comprehended  as  one  se- 
curing the  greatest  good  ? We  believe  that  the 
sense  of  obligation  not  only  gives  impulse  to  action, 


26o 


Instinct, 


but  that  its  tendency  is  to  secure  right  action,  even 
amidst  the  most  disastrous  mistakes  of  ignorance. 
This  we  think  will  appear  before  we  close  the  dis- 
cussion. And  we  now  proceed  to  consider  this 
sense  of  obligation  still  farther,  in  its  subordinate 
operations  to  secure  conformity  to  what  would  be 
its  first  great  command,  if  man  had  wisdom  enough 
to  discover  his  true  end  from  the  beginning. 

In  the  first  place,  the  sense  of  obligation  always 
arises  to  do  a specific  act,  when  that  act  is  judged  by 
us,  to  promote  any  end,  the  seeking  of  which  obliga- 
tion commands.  It  is  no  proof  that  the  act  will  aid 
in  securing  the  end,  because  the  sense  of  obligation 
arises  to  perform  it.  If  it  were,  man  would  need  no 
aid  from  knowledge  to  guide  his  conduct  in  seek- 
ing any  end  that  he  knows  to  be  good, — he  would 
guide  himself  perfectly  by  the  sense  of  obligation 
alone.  All  mistakes  in  seeking  such  an  end  would 
be  impossible  ; and  growth  in  knowledge  would  be 
useless  as  an  aid  in  guiding  moral  action.  There 
are  those  who  make  this  fatal  blunder  in  life.  They 
satisfy  “ conscience^'  and  through  ignorance  of  re- 
lations commit  hideous  wrong,  and  call  it  God’s  ser- 
vice. Men  may  feel  under  obligation  to  do  most 
wicked  things,  when  they  are  ignorant,  because  the 
sense  of  obligation  was  never  given  to  take  the 
place  of.  knowledge,  or  to  be  any  excuse  for  igno- 
rance. 

The  sense  of  obligation,  as  securing  specific  acts, 
has  a certain  fixed  relation,  then,  to  the  cojnprehend- 
ing  power ^ or  the  judgments  formed  through  the 
agency  of  that  power.  Let  the  judgment  decide 


Obligation,  26 1 

that  a specific  act  will  promote  the  great  end, 
which  it  is  the  law  of  man’s  being  to  seek,  and  the 
sense  of  obligation  to  perform  that  act  arises  at 
once.  The  action  of  obligation  is,  in  this  sense,  an- 
alogous to  the  action  of  the  lower  instinctive  im- 
pulses. We  have  shown  that  they  have  a certain 
relation  to  the  impression  made  upon  the  senses. 
Make  a certain  impression  upon  the  senses  of  an 
animal,  and  the  instinctive  act  follows,  though  its 
results  may  be  the  worst  possible  for  the  being. 
Animal  Instinct  was  made  to  depend  upon  the 
senses  for  its  light,  or  condition  of  acting,  where  it 
has  any  relation  to  the  senses  at  all.  In  like  man- 
ner, when  the  relation  of  a certain  act,  to  the  great 
end  of  our  being,  is  judged  to  be  direct,  by  the  com- 
prehending power  of  man,  the  sense  of  obligation  to 
perform  that  act,  arises  at  once,  though  the  per- 
formance of  it  may,  through  ignorance  of  relations, 
involve  the  worst  possible  consequences.  From 
this,  it  is  plain  that  the  impulse  of  obligation  has 
the  same  relation  to  the  comprehending  power  of 
man,  that  ordinary  instinctive  impulse  has  to  sim- 
ple sense-perception  in  animals. 

Obligation  then,  we  may  regard  as  the  great 
moral,  instinctive  impulse,  that  drives  us  to  act  in 
securing  the  greatest  moral  good  at  which  man  can 
aim,  as  the  lower  instinctive  impulses  drive  animals 
and  men  to  act  to  secure  physical  life,  which  to  them, 
as  mere  animals,  is  the  greatest  good,  as  it  is  the 
condition  of  all  good  to  them. 

Both  animal  Instinct  and  the  Sense  of  Obliga- 
tion depend  for  their  light,  or  condition  of  action. 


262 


Instinct. 


upon  other  powers.  If  it  is  instinct  that  preserves 
an  animal,  it  is  also  true  that  it  is  through  his  in- 
stincts that  we  most  easily  destroy  him.  Deceive 
his  senses,  and  he  will  destroy  himself,  by  his  own 
instinctive  act.  That  which  was  made  to  preserve 
him,  becomes  the  surest  means  of  his  destruction. 

So  the  worst  acts  the  world  has  ever  witnessed, 
have  been  performed  under  the  stimulus  of  Obliga- 
tion, arising  from  mistaken  views  of  relations.  The 
persecutions,  the  burnings  and  stonings, — the  mar- 
tyrdoms in  all  ages, — are  the  horrid  work  of  this 
highest  instinct,  guided  by  ignorance.  It  is  like  the 
power  that  drives  the  engine  safely  on  its  way,  when 
the  road  is  in  perfect  order,  but  which  brings  ruin 
and  death,  when  the  rails  are  broken  or  misplaced. 

Obligation  demands  results  in  accordance  with 
the  great  end  of  man’s  being,  which  it  constantly  en- 
forces, and  ever  keeps  potentially  present  as  the 
basis  of  every  act ; as  the  love  of  life  is  present  as 
the  basis  of  every  lower  instinctive  act.  But  it  has,  of 
itself,  no  power  to  comprehend  the  relations  which 
will  secure  the  best  results.  For  this  light,  or  con- 
dition of  right  action,  it  must  depend  upon  the  com- 
prehending power,  whether  that  be  INTELLECT, 
REASON  or  MORAL  REASON,  or  all  of  these  combined. 

But  this  action  of  Obligation  alone  would  plain- 
ly be  defective  as  an  aid  in  reaching  the  great  end 
which  it  commands  us  to  seek.  It  can  go  with  safe- 
ty, only  as  the  comprehending  power  furnishes  the 
conditions,  and  this  furnishes  the  conditions  by  in- 
vestigating all  agencies,  and  the  tendencies  of  all 
courses  of  action  ; that  is,  the  great  work  of  the 


Double  Work  of  Obligation.  263 

comprehending  power,  is  to  gather  knowledge  from 
every  source  open  to  it,  to  enable  it  to  furnish  the 
right  conditions,  so  that  every  act,  which  Obligation 
demands  shall  be  towards  the  great  end  which  it 
constantly  impels  us  to  seek.  If  knowledge  were 
perfect,  so  that  the  exact  relation  of  every  act  to  the 
great  end  of  life,  were  fully  understood,  the  machin- 
ery would  be  perfect,  as  we  have  said.  But  there 
is  great  ignorance  of  the  relation  of  acts  to  results, 
and  of  results  to  the  chief  end  of  life.  If  the  whole 
work  of  obligation,  as  a means  to  this  end,  were  ' 
simply  to  impel  to  acts  in  view  of  perceived  rela- 
tions, it  is  evident  that  a man  might  remain  in  ig- 
norance, and  still  obey  the  voice  of  Obligation, 
while  constantly  working  against  the  supreme  end 
which  she  commands  him  to  seek.  Obligation 
might  be  constantly  commanding  him  to  do  specific 
acts,  contrary  to  her  original  and  generic  command, 
as  though  a father  who  had  commanded  his  son  to 
raise  wheat,  should  then  command  him  to  sow  the 
seed  on  ground  unfit  for  that  kind  of  grain,  or  to 
sow  in  midsummer,  or  to  parch  the  seed  before 
sowing. 

Plainly,  if  man  were  left  with  a constitution  like 
this,  the  worst  consequences  would  follow  practical- 
ly, and  Reason  would  never  justify  the  Creator  in 
giving  such  a constitution  to  any  being. 

But  now  we  find  Obligation  doing  another  work, 
which  has  a tendency  to  correct  this  defect,  so  that 
its  work  can  be  justified  by  Reason.  While  it  acts, 
in  view  of  relations  discovered  by  the  comprehend- 
ing power,  and  of  results  which  that  power  declares 


264 


Instinct. 


to  be  in  the  direction  of  the  great  end  first  com- 
manded, it  also  demands  of  the  comprehending 
power  that  it  do  its  work  in  the  most  faithful  man- 
ner. While  Obligation  must  have  light  from  the 
comprehending  power,  it  does  not  wait  for  that 
light  to  come  or  not,  as  some  lower  impulse  may 
determine,  but  with  royal  voice,  it  demands  more 
light  every  instant  of  time, — it  demands  all  the  light 
the  comprehending  power  can  give, — it  will  be  sat- 
isfied with  nothing  less,  and  it  increases  its  demands, 
as  the  capacity  of  the  comprehending  power  in- 
creases, when  used  in  the  best  manner  possible. 
Can  any  thing  be  more  beautiful  than  this  double 
action  of  obligation  in  the  system  of  means  ? It 
does  not  make  man  a perfect  being,  as  to  knowl- 
edge, but  it  is  beautiful,  as  the  means  of  constant 
progress  towards  perfection.  There  is  resting  upon 
man,  evermore,  the  obligation  to  do  right,  and  to 
secure  knowledge,  that  he  may  know  what  right  is. 

But  are  we  done  with  Obligation  yet?  We 
think  not.  In  its  action  just  referred  to,  we  have 
taken  it  for  granted  that  the  action  was  based  upon 
the  decision  of  the  comprehending  power, — wheth- 
er correct  or  not, — that  the  result  aimed  at  was  in 
the  direction  of  the  great  end  of  life,  the  end  for 
which  man  was  7nade.  But  it  must  be  plain  to  ev- 
ery one,  that  we  are  not  compelled  either  to  make 
broad  generalizations,  to  understand  the  great  end 
of  life,  or  the  relation  of  every  act  to  the  greatest 
good  of  all  men,  or  the  glory  of  God,  before  we 
have  the  impulse  of  Obligation  to  act,  this  fact  has 
been  clearly  seen  by  moral  philosophers,  and  it  has 


Doing  Right  because  it  is  Right.  265 

been  fully  considered  by  them.  Obligation  is  found 
enforcing  certain  subordinate  acts,  as  those  of  jus- 
tice, mercy  and  truth,  even  when  the  good  secured 
by  them  is  not  taken  into  account ; and  we  even 
find  it  enforcing  certain  acts,  as  those  of  justice  or 
honesty,  when  the  act  cannot  be  justified  to  Reason, 
at  the  time,  as  producing  or  tending  to  produce, 
the  greatest  good.  And,  undoubtedly,  on  this  ac- 
count, has  arisen  much  controversy  about  “ doing 
right  because  it  is  right"'  It  means,  we  suppose, 
that  the  sense  of  Obligation  impels  us  to  perform 
certain  acts,  that  may  seem  at  the  time  opposed  to 
the  greatest  good,  if  we  mean  by  that  the  greatest 
happiness  of  all.  That  it  does  this,  we  suppose  all 
will  admit.  A single  illustration  will  show  the  prin- 
ciple. If  I have  property  in  my  hands  belonging 
to  a rich  man,  who  can  never  need  it — who  already 
has  more  than  is  needed  by  him,  so  that  my  judg- 
ment and  the  judgment  of  others,  himself  included, 
is  that  he  would  be  happier  if  he  had  less,  and  I am 
in  want  so  that  the  property  would  add  to  my  hap- 
piness, there  is  yet  a sense  of  justice,  which  prevents 
my  appropriating  the  property.  I feel  under  obli- 
gation to  restore  that  property  to  him,  though  I 
need  it  for  my  comfort,  and  he  does  not  need  it  for 
his.  That  sense  of  obligation  to  return  him  his  own, 
does  not  yield  to  any  prospect  of  advantage  to  me 
in  retaining  it,  until  a new  principle  comes  in — the 
saving  of  life.  I feel  under  obligation  to  save  that, 
at  the  expense  of  all  property  that  I can  use,  wheth- 
er my  own  or  another’s. 

Now  that  sense  of  justice,  and  the  accompany- 


12 


266 


Instinct. 


ing  sense  of  obligation  to  do  justly,  are  so  essential 
to  the  welfare  of  such  a being  as  man  is,  and  so  es- 
sential as  a part  of  the  means  for  carrying  out  that 
social  and  moral  system  which  the  highest  Reason 
justifies,  that  they  seem  to  be  both  given  to  man 
to  secure  the  action  which  is  right  in  reference  to 
his  highest  end,  even  when  there  is  no  conception 
of  the  good  which  they  were  intended  to  produce, 
— as  the  instincts  were  given  to  the  lower  animals, 
to  secure  certain  actions  essential  to  the  life  of  the 
individual  or  species,  though  the  animal  could  have 
no  conception  of  the  relation  of  the  act  to  the  ulti- 
mate end  to  be  attained. 

It  is  this  kind  of  impulse,  from  a sense  of  obliga- 
tion to  perform  certain  acts,  the  good  of  which  we 
do  not  see,  and  which  the  judgment,  at  the  time, 
even  pronounces  against  as  a means  of  producing 
the  greatest  happiness,  that  probably  gives  rise  to 
the  notion  that  we  feel  under  obligation  to  “do 
right  because  it  is  right.”  It  is  plain  that  we  feel 
under  obligation  to  do  certain  acts^  for  the  doing  of 
which  we  can  give  no  reason  except  that  we  feel  the 
obligation.  And  we  shall  find  all  such  acts  to  be  of 
so  fundamental  a character,  that  it  would  be  ruinous 
to  any  system  of  moral  government,  if  not  destruc- 
tive to  the  race,  to  leave  them  to  arouse  the  sense 
of  obligation  only  when  the  production  of  good  is 
asserted  of  them  by  the  judgment.  But  the  acts 
that  follow  this  sense  of  obligation  thus  originating, 
are,  in  their  relation  to  a moral  system,  and  the 
highest  end  of  man  as  connected  with  that  system, 
like  those  instinctive  acts  in  the  lower  animals, 


Manifestations  of  Obligation.  267 

without  which  the  species  could  not  exist,  and  the 
necessity  of  which  it  would  be  impossible  for  them 
to  learn  from  experience.  It  is  difficult  to  see  how 
acts  thus  performed,  are  higher  in  their  nature  than 
those  that  are  preceded  by  Obligation  founded  on 
comprehension  of  relations  and  rational  choice. 

We  thus  have  these  four  possible  manifestations 
of  obligation. 

First, — As  requiring  man  to  choose  the  end  for 
which  he  was  made,  when  that  is  comprehended. 

Second, — As  impelling  him  to  every  act  that  is 
judged  to  be  a means  of  securing  that  end. 

Third, — Impelling  to  certain  acts  when  no  re- 
lation is,  at  the  time,  perceived  between  them  and 
that  ultimate  end  which,  when  comprehended,  obli- 
gation commands  us  to  seek. 

Fourth, — As  laying  its  constant  and  ever  in- 
creasing demands  upon  the  comprehending  power  to 
furnish  the  best  conditions  for  its  action. 

In  all  these  respects  its  analogy  to  animal  In- 
stinct is  very  striking  and  beautiful, — Obligation 
having  for  its  aim  the  spiritual,  or  higher  life  of 
man,  as  the  instincts  of  animals  relate  to  the  phys- 
ical life. 

First, — The  leading  instinctive  impulses  of  an- 
imals, are  those  which  demand  the  preservation  of 
life — the  life  of  the  individual  and  the  continuance 
of  the  species. 

Second, — There  is  an  instinctive  impulse  to  do 
all  things  that  are  seen  to  be  connected  with  the 
preservation  of  the  individual  or  the  species. 


268 


Instmct. 


Third, — There  is  an  impulse  to  do  certain  acts 
which,  as  the  animal  performs  them,  have  no  per- 
ceived relation  to  the  end  to  be  secured  by  them. 

Fourth, — These  instinctive  impulses  make  con- 
stant demands  upon  the  senses  to  furnish  the  light, 
or  condition  which  they  need  for  their  best  action. 

It  may  aid  us  in  making  the  comparisons,  to 
bring  the  different  points  together. 

1.  Obligation  is  given  to  secure  the  perfection 
of  the  higher  life  of  the  individual  and  the  race, 
which  is  the  highest  good  to  both. 

Instinct  of  animals,  is  to  secure  the  preserva- 
tion of  physical  life,  which  is  the  greatest  good  to 
them,  and  the  condition  of  all  good. 

2.  Obligation  impels  to  every  act  that  se- 
cures, or  is  judged  to  secure,  the  highest  good  of  the 
individual  or  race. 

Instinct  impels  to  every  act  that  tends  to  se- 
cure the  life  of  the  individual,  or  species. 

3.  Obligation  impels  to  certain  acts,  though 
they  may  not  be  seen  by  us  at  the  time,  to  lead  to 
the  greatest  good. 

Instinct  impels  to  certain  acts  not  seen  by  the 
animal,  at  the  time,  to  have  any  relation  to  the  con- 
tinuance of  life. 

4.  Obligation  depends  upon  the  comprehend- 
ing power  for  its  light,  or  condition  for  right  action. 

Instinct  depends  upon  the  senses  for  the  con- 
ditions of  its  action. 

This  is  another  of  those  marked  instances 
where  the  method  of  action  continues  the  same  in 


Obligation  ayid  Animal  Instinct.  269 

different  planes  of  activity,  even  when  the  powers 
acting  in  one  plane  are  entirely  distinct,  in  kind, 
from  those  acting  in  the  other. 

Obligation  and  animal  Instinct  differ,  especially 
in  this,  that  obligation  depending  for  its  conditions 
on  the  comprehending  power,  is  fitted  for  an  unlim- 
ited range  of  progress ; or  the  being  possessing  it 
has  progressive  capacity  constantly  increasing  in 
the  individual  and  gaining  new  light  from  genera- 
tion to  generation,  and  from  the  observation  and 
experience  of  thousands,  at  the  same  time, — while 
animal  Instinct,  having  its  condition  from  the  bodi- 
ly senses,  has  but  limited  range  in  the  individual, 
and  the  individual  can  gain  nothing  from  those 
that  have  gone  before  him,  and  but  little  from 
those  associated  with  him.  There  is  connected 
with  animal  Instinct,  no  such  system  of  progress 
as  is  connected  with  Obligation,  if  there  is  any  at 
all.  We  have,  thus  far,  spoken  of  the  impulse  of 
Obligation,  as  though  men  follow  it  as  certainly  as 
animals  follow  the  impulses  of  their  Instinct.  But 
this  is  far  from  being  the  case.  If  they  did,  there 
would  be  a uniformity  of  moral  action,  and  of  re- 
sults in  the  higher  life  of  man,  that  would  approach 
the  uniformity  of  animal  life  secured  by  Instinct. 
The  moral  acts  of  men  would  differ  only  as  their 
knowledge  differed.  They  might  make  mistakes 
but  intentional  wrong-doing  would  be  impossible. 

Man  has  a truly  animal  nature  with  all  the  im- 
pulses of  animal  appetites  and  instincts.  He  has, 
also,  this  higher  nature,  in  which  the  sense  of  Ob- 
ligation is  the  great  impulse.  As  this  higher  na- 


/ 


270 


Instinct, 


ture  in  man  is  the  natural  ruler  of  the  other  in  him,- 
there  is  often  conflict  between  them.  The  lower 
impulses  draw  in  one  direction,  while  Obligation 
forbids  the  advance,  or  even  demands  an  entirely 
different  line  of  action.  If  this  were  not  so,  man 
would  know  nothing  of  those  moral  conflicts  which 
he  now  finds  going  on  within  him.  An  animal 
may,  by  its  nature,  be  impelled  or  compelled,  to 
fight  another ; but  as  a moral  being,  a man’s  se- 
verest battles  are  with  himself, — between  his  high- 
er and  lower  nature. 

When  the  lower  impulses  are  in  one  direction, 
and  the  impulse  of  Obligation  in  another,  the  con- 
dition of  CHOICE  is  presented.  And  rational  choice 
is  involved,  in  every  act  which  follows  the  Sense  of 
Obligation,  whe7i  that  arises  from  a comprehension 
of  results.  As  the  first  demand  of  Obligation  is 
that  the  highest  end  of  man  should  be  chosen, 
when  that  end  is  comprehended,  so  the  first  ration- 
al, generic  choice  is  the  choice  of  that  end,  as  the 
goal  towards  which  every  power  must  press.  That 
act  of  choice  declares  that  the  lower  nature  shall, 
henceforth,  be  the  servant  of  the  higher, — it  shall 
be  well  used,  that  it  may  be  a good  servant, 
but  the  doom  of  its  servitude  is  pronounced,  once 
for  all.  The  man  henceforth  rules  himself, — all  the 
animal  nature  within  him  is  in  subjection.  Such  a 
choice  is  the  act  of  Free  Personality.  It  cannot 
be  illustrated,  because  there  is  nothing  else  like  it. 
It  is  the  only  point  of  true  freedom.  It  is  known 
by  consciousness  alone.  Every  act  of  choice,  both 
generic  and  specific,  may  be  in  the  line  that  Obli- 


Ground  of  Accouyitability, 


271 


gation  requires,  or  it  may  be  opposed  to  it.  Every 
choice  involving  Obligation,  or  subsequent  to  the 
impulse  of  Obligation,  whether  in  accordance  with 
it  or  against  it,  is  a decision  between  the  higher 
and  lower  nature,  and  determines  which  of  them 
shall,  for  the  time,  rule.  It  is  in  the  power  of  this 
intelligent  choice^  that  we  discover  the  highest  free- 
doMj  the  07ily  true  freedo^n^  a7id  it  is  here  that  we 
see  the  ground  of  man  s accountability . 

The  impulse  of  Obligation  being  given  to  se- 
cure the  right,  or  most  effective,  use  of  all  our  pow- 
ers, it  may  extend  to  every  act  towards  ourselves, 
our  fellow-men  and  God.  As  it  is  ultimate,  in  the 
sense  of  having  no  impulse  to  action  higher  than 
itself,  it  has  connected  with  it  a fearful  power,  by 
which  it  enforces  its  commands.  It  has  nothing 
above  it  to  restrain  its  action ; and  it  never  needs 
restraint,  but  only  light,  that  it  may  act  in  the  right 
direction.  Then  the  best  results  come  from  the 
full  measure  of  its  activity.  In  this  respect,  it  is, 
in  its  action,  analogous  to  the  instincts  of  animals, 
which  unconstrained  work  out  the  best  results  for 
them,  provided  the  senses  furnish  the  proper  con- 
dition of  action. 

As  there  is  nothing  above  Obligation  to  restrain 
it,  so  there  is  nothing  to  aid  it  as  an  impulse.  It 
secures  its  own  effective  action  only  by  its  own 
constitution,  if  at  all.  Remorse  is  the  recoil  of 
this  great  impulse  to  action,  in  the  higher  nature 
of  man,  when  its  action  is  thwarted  by  the  power 
of  the  lower  instincts,  which  were  not  made  to  rule. 

If  any  act  is  contrary  to  the  demands  of  Obliga- 


2/2 


Instinct, 


tion,  the  punishment  that  follows  is  quick  and  in- 
tense. If  the  act  is  as  Obligation  demands,  there  is, 
at  the  time,  no  recoil,  although  the  act,  through  ig- 
norance, may  produce  the  worst  results.  There 
may  be  sorrow  for  the  unfortunate  results,  but  no 
remorse.  But  if  the  judgment,  afterwards,  decides 
that  the  ignorance  which  caused  the  evil  was  un- 
necessary, then  remorse  follows,  as  though  the  Sense 
of  Obligation  had  been  violated  at  the  time  of  per- 
forming the  act.  For  it  is  a part  of  the  office  of 
Obligation,  as  we  have  shown,  to  secure  from  the 
comprehending  power  all  the  light  it  can  give. 

There  must  be  an  apprehension  of  one’s  rela- 
tion to  an  act,  before  Obligation  can  arise.  Then 
there  must  be  consciousness  of  the  Obligation. 
Conscience  then,  or  moral  consciousness^  grasps  by 
an  intuitive  comprehension  every  relation  of  man 
to  every  act  involving  choice  between  the  im- 
pulses of  the  higher  and  lower  nature ; and  in  con- 
nection with  every  such  act  contrary  to  the  sense 
of  Obligation,  there  comes  the  punishment  of  re- 
morse, which  we  conceive  to  be  the  dreadful  recoil 
of  this  highest  moral  impulse.  Obligation,  when  it 
is  defied  and  thwarted  in  its  legitimate  work.  It  is 
Conscience  or  moral  consciousness,  that  makes  the 
torments  of  remorse  possible;  and  if  one  chooses 
to  regard  obligation  and  remorse  both  as  the  work 
of  Conscience,  we  do  not  object,  as  we  are  seeking 
for  facts,  and  not  for  theoretical  divisions  or  defini- 
tions. 

We  are  now  prepared  to  state  the  difference  be- 
tween a man  and  an  animal,  as  we  have  found  them 


Characteristics  of  Man.  273 

in  our  analysis,  up  to  this  point.  It  consists  in 
three  things. 

In  man  we  find — 

First, — A comprehending  power,  that  surveys 
the  universe,  and  all  the  capacities  of  its  possessor, 
in  relation  to  that  universe. 

Second, — A sense  of  Obligation  to  do  certain 
acts,  and  to  refrain  from  others, — this  sense  arising 
spontaneously,  in  view  of  certain  relations  or  re- 
sults, and  being  distinct  from  those  impulses  of  the 
affections  or  desires,  which  may  belong  to  an  ani- 
mal. 

Third, — The  power  of  choice,  that  gives,  by 
its  generic  action,  individuality  of  aim  for  a life- 
time ; and,  in  specific  acts,  determines  whether  the 
higher  or  lower  nature  of  man  shall  rule.  These 
three  powers,  with  executive  volition,  make  man 
the  ruler  of  the  world  and  the  shaper  of  his  own 
destiny,  so  far  as  choice  and  attempts  are  con- 
cerned. 

These  three  powers  are  all  that  we  have  yet 
found  distinctive  in  the  higher  nature  of  man.  If 
animals  have  either  of  them,  we  look  in  vain  for  the 
proof  of  it  in  the  whole  range  of  the  animal  kingdom. 
It  is  claimed  by  some  that  animals  have  these  powers, 
but  the  proof  offered  is  not  satisfactory.  The  beauti- 
ful action  of  the  natural  instincts,  as  the  social  in- 
stincts, and  parental  instincts, — is  often  triumphantly 
referred  to  as  proof  of  the  moral  nature  of  animals; 
but  a full  analysis  of  these  instincts  shows  that  they 
occupy  an  entirely  different  sphere  from  the  three 
powers  we  have  mentioned.  In  man  these  natural  in- 
12* 


274 


Instinct, 


stincts  call  the  moral  nature  into  action,  it  is  true ; 
but  in  the  animals,  they  need  neither  guidance  nor 
restraint  from  obligation  or  any  thing  above  them, 
as  we  have  shown. 

But  an  animal  may  have,  and  probably  does 
have,  other  emotions  which  are  so  intimately  related 
to  the  moral  nature,  as  instruments,  as  to  be  readi- 
ly mistaken  for  its  essential  powers,  or  character- 
istics. An  animal  may  have  the  emotion  of  pity, 
and  also  an  impulse  that  secures  justice,  so  far  as  it  is 
essential  to  animal  life.  They,  certainly,  instinctive- 
ly act  as  though  they  had  such  emotions.  It  may 
be  that  they  have  only  a simple  impulse,  that  secures 
the  proper  action,  while  in  man,  there  may  precede 
every  one  of  his  acts,  comprehension,  the  sense  of 
of  Obligation,  and  choice.  If  we  say  that  Obliga- 
tion can  only  follow  comprehension  of  ends,  then 
we  must  allow  that  the  simple  impulses,  which  se- 
cure justice,  truth  and  the  like,  are  in  the  same 
line  as  Obligation  would  require,  were  there  compre- 
hension of  the  results,  and  so  like  it  in  every  re- 
spect as  to  be  distinguished  from  it  with  great 
difficulty. 

If  animals  have  a comprehension  of  moral  rela- 
tions, with  the  accompanying  sense  of  Obligation, 
and  that  consciousness  of  the  comprehension  of 
relations  and  sense  of  obligation,  which  is  Conscience 
itself,  or  the  product  of  Conscience,  we  see  no 
proof  of  it.  We 'can  account  for  all  their  actions, 
perfectly,  by  referring  to  some  lower  principle  of 
instinctive  impulse,  which  in  them  is  self-directive. 


Cause  of  Wretchedness, 


275 


All  men  give  evidence  that  they  have  all  these  ele- 
ments, which  can  be  reckoned  as  belonging  to  con- 
science. They  may  be  in  a wretched  state  of  ac- 
tivity, through  ignorance  ; or  the  scale  of  humanity 
may  be  so  low  that  animal  impulses  seem  to  have 
the  entire  sway,  and  thus  moral  distinctions  may 
have  made  no  impression  on  the  language  of  de- 
graded tribes.  But  this  no  more  proves  that  these 
moral  powers  are  not  present,  than  the  absence  of 
algebraic  language  and  methods,  among  ignorant 
men,  is  proof  that  such  men  have  no  power  to 
generalize  in  numbers.  Whenever  search  has  been 
made  for  the  elements  of  conscience  in  man,  they 
have  been  found.  They  are  at  least  potentially 
present,  as  the  blade  is  present  in  the  grain  of  corn. 
The  work  of  missionaries  in  all  parts  of  the  world 
abundantly  proves  this. 

We  see,  then,  that  the  moral  nature  of  man  is 
all  that  it  could  be,  and  leave  him  a free  and  pro- 
gressive being. 

All  the  wretchedness  of  the  world  comes  from 
two  things, ignorance  of  the  relations  of  acts  to 
the  great  end  of  life^  and  that  strange  perverseness 
which  leads  men  to  choose  against  the  sense  of  Obli- 
gation. If  both  of  these  evils  were  remedied,  man 
would  still  be  a free,  progressive  being,  as  new  re- 
lations and  conditions  of  activity  opened  before  him  ; 
but  his  choices  always  being  according  to  Obliga- 
tion, and  his  comprehension  of  all  new  relations 
being  perfect,  his  course  would  be  like  that  of  a 
ship,  when  it  moves  in  a direct  line  from  port  to  port ; 
while  now  he  is  at  best,  like  a ship  that  makes  its 


2/6 


Instinct. 


way  midst  fogs,  and  darkness,  and  adverse  winds. 
And,  too  often,  the  pilot  deserts  the  helm,  leaving 
the  ship  to  float,  as  the  winds  and  currents  chance 
to  move.  This  condition  of  the  race,  all  see  and  ac- 
knowledge. As  to  the  final  result  of  this  condition, 
and  as  to  the  remedy  for  it,  there  is  great  disagree- 
ment. It  does  not  come  within  our  province  to 
seek  for  a remedy,  or  to  declare  that  none  is  need- 
ed. It  was  our  business  in  making  this  survey  of 
the  instinctive  principles,  to  find  their  position  in 
man,  as  a being  able  to  guide  himself,  through  his 
higher  nature, — to  contrast  his  condition  with  that 
of  animals,  which  are  guided  by  tho^e  appetites 
and  instincts  which  man  is  called  upon  to  guide 
and  limit  in  himself. 

Here,  then,  we  close  our  discussion  in  relation 
to  man,  as  belonging  to  this  world  alone.  He  has 
a physical  system,  with  senses  and  reflexive  move- 
ments, as  the  animals  have.  He  has  appetites  and 
instincts  like  theirs  in  kind,  but  differing  from  theirs 
in  degree,  as  theirs  differ  among  the  various  species. 
He  has  instincts  also, — such  as  we  see  no  trace  of  in 
them, — which  relate  to  the  progress  of  society. 
He  has  a comprehending  power  capable  of  under- 
standing his  relations  to  the  universe,  and  the  pow- 
er of  choice  in  selecting  his  line  of  action,  in  the 
world.  He  has,  with  this  power,  the  Sense  of  Ob- 
ligation, which  impels  him  to  act,  and  punishes  him 
if  he  does  not ; and  at  the  same  time  it  impels  him 
to  obtain  the  knowledge  necessary  for  reaching  the 
results  that  secure  the  highest  good.  He  suffers 


Man  and  Animals  Compared,  277 

from  ignorance ; and  this  shows  that  he  is  not  a 
perfect  being  now,  even  in  the  agencies  which  se- 
cure progress.  His  nobleness  is  seen  in  the  outfit 
given  him,  which  forbids  him  to  remain  in  ignorance, 
and  enables  him  to  improve  by  the  experience  and 
labors  of  all  the  generations  before  him. 

The  perfection  of  the  animal  will  appear  in  ev- 
ery one  of  the  species,  if  his  activities  have  full  play. 
That  there  shall  be  such  uniformity  of  excellence, 
among  members  of  the  human  race,  if  not  impossi- 
ble, is  something  for  many  generations  yet  to  come 
to  aim  at.  There  have,  thus  far,  in  every  age, been 
those  whose  higher  nature  ruled.  They  might  be 
wanting  in  some  kinds  of  knowledge,  but  they  had 
reached  the  highest  plane  of  action  which  it  is  pos- 
sible for  man  to  reach.  There  have  been  others, 
who  have  given  themselves  up  to  their  bodily  appe- 
tites and  instincts.  This  is  the  lowest  plane  of  ac- 
tion to  which  man  can  sink.  He  is  then  vastly 
lower,  in  his  actions,  than  the  brutes  can  be,  be- 
cause his  animal  propensities  have  no  such  limita- 
tion and  self-guidance,  as  theirs  have. 

The  works  of  an  animal  are  for  himself  and 
those  associated  with  him,  or  to  spring  from  him. 
The  works  of  man  are  for  generations  to  come,  and 
often  for  those  of  foreign  and  even  hostile  nations. 
The  animal  acts  best  when  he  acts  as  his  appetites 
and  instincts  impel.  Man  feels  all  these  impulses, 
and  has,  in  addition,  the  Sense  of  Obligation,  as  an 
impulse,  that  may  work  with  them  or  against  them  ; 
and  which  he  must  obey,  in  all  its  commands,  or 
suffer  its  immediate  and  terrible  punishment. 


278 


Instmct, 


When  we  have  considered  the  religious  instincts 
of  man,  we  can  mark  other  differences  between  him 
•and  the  highest  of  the  lower  animals,  as  we  shall 
then  have  other  elements  of  character  that  belong 
only  to  him. 


LECTURE  XII 


RELIGIOUS  INSTINCTS. — SUMMARY  AND  CONCLU- 
SION. 

Sumjnary  of  principles. — Their  existence  denied. — May  be  dormant.— ‘ 
Assert  their  sway. — Knowledge  of  God. — Instinct  of  a child. — 
Natural  Religion. — Revelation. — Instinct  of  Prayer. — Of  Wor- 
ship.— Analogous  to  Animal  Instincts. — Indiindual  Accountability, 
— Diagram  of  Pozvers. — Explanation  of  Activities. — Choice  of  an 
Ultimate  End. — Provisions  for  every  Appetite  and  Desire. — Sum- 
mary of  Lectures. — Defects  of  our  Education. — Man’s  power  over 
the  Universe. — His  relationship  to  it. — Prepare  the  way  for  Pro- 
gress.— The  Laborers  needed. — Influence  of  names. — Transition 
Period. — Final  results  of  the  study  and  control  of  all  the  Powers. 

We  have  considered  man  in  his  animal  nature,  as 
possessing  appetites  and  instincts  which  act  with- 
out a guiding  power  in  them  or  among  them.  We 
have  also  shown  the  relation  of  this  animal  nature 
to  a higher  nature,  which  is  fitted  to  control  it,  and 
has,  as  its  own  possession,  the  means — by  automat- 
ic powers  and  free-personality — of  controlling  itself. 
All  of  these  powers  thus  balanced,  would  justify 
themselves  to  Reason,  if  this  world  and  the  physi- 
cal life  of  man  were  their  only  sphere  of  action,  and 
the  limit  of  their  duration  in  each  individual.  But 
there  is  a whole  group  of  emotions,  aspirations  and 
impulses,  which  seem  to  be  meaningless,  if  man’s 
conscious  activity  is  limited  to  the  duration  of  his 


28o 


Instinct, 


physical  life,  and  there  is  no  Intelligent  Being  above 
him  who  has  personal  relations  to  him. 

It  is  in  order  now  for  us  to  enumerate  these  act- 
ive principles,  of  what  may  be  called  the  Religious 
nature  of  man,  in  distinction  from  his  Moral,  and  to 
point  out  their  analogy  to  the  lower  instinctive 
principles.  It  is  the  work  of  the  Natural  Theolo- 
gian, to  interpret  these  principles  fully  and  to  pro- 
nounce upon  their  value  or  worthlessness  to  man. 

These  instinctive  principles  are — 

1.  Belief  in  some  supernatural  being — or  beings. 

2.  Belief  in  accountability,  or  relationship  to 
that  being  in  such  measure  as  for  good  or  evil  to 
come  from  it. 

3.  Belief  in  immortality,  and  the  continuance  of 
this  relation  after  death. 

4.  The  Instinct  of  prayer,  as  a means  of  estab- 
lishing relations  with  this  being. 

5.  The  Instinct  of  worship,  including  the  emo- 
tion of  veneration  and  its  expression. 

The  existence  of  these  beliefs  and  impulses  as 
something  essential  to  humanity,  has  been  denied, 
and  they  are  in  some  cases  so  dormant  or  weak 
through  the  degradation  of  the  man,  that  like  some 
of  the  lower  instinctive  principles,  they  do  not  make 
themselves  known  to  observers  till  the  proper  con- 
ditions are  applied  for  bringing  them  into  special 
activity.  In  proof  of  their  universality,  we  can  only 
appeal  to  the  present  condition  of  the  race.* 

These  principles  assert  their  sway  over  those 
who,  as  speculative  philosophers,  have  denied  their 


* See  Appendix — Note  A. 


Existence  of  God. 


281 


existence,  and  they  appear  in  some  form  in  every 
religion  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest.  And  when 
men  wonder  at  the  number  of  religions  and  the  ab- 
surd notions  connected  with  religious  practices,  they 
would  do  well  to  remember  that  all  these  are  man- 
ifestations of  the  instincts  or  impulses  of  a religious 
nature.  They  prove  that  man  has  such  impulses. 
And  that  is  all  we  wish  now  to  show.  We  are  not 
called  upon  to  show  that  these  impulses  are  either 
useless  or  of  the  highest  importance,  though  we  are 
permitted  to  state  our  belief  that  they  are  the  high- 
est instinctive  impulses  of  our  nature, — that  Obli- 
gation enters  this  field  to  strengthen  every  impulse 
to  action  — and  that  one  of  the  most  reasonable  of 
all  things,  from  the  analogy  of  nature,  is  to  expect 
that  the  means  of  satisfying  these  instincts  will  be 
provided  for  man. 

This  instinctive  belief  in  the  existence  of  a God, 
has  never  of  itself  proved  to  be  directive,  so  as  to 
give  a knowledge  of  God  directly,  that  Reason  could 
approve  of.  The  knowledge  of  God,  so  far  as  man 
has  gained  it  for  himself,  has  come  from  the  com- 
prehending power, — either  from  that  portion  of  it 
called  Pure  Reason,  evolving  necessary  notions  of 
an  absolute,  perfect  being ; or  it  has  come  as  a ne- 
cessary induction  from  the  contemplation  of  the 
works  of  nature,  including  the  constitution  of  man. 
From  this  intellectual  notion  of  God,  there  would 
be  gradually  gained  by  the  study  of  God’s  works,  a 
knowledge  of  his  character ; and  from  that  charac- 
ter, inferences  could  be  rationally  drawn  as  to  his 
relations  to  man  and  what  he  would  do  for  him. 


282 


Instinct. 


The  probability  of  a Revelation  in  words,  would  be 
settled,  and  the  proper  tests  of  such  a Revelation 
would  be  determined.  So  that,  in  the  end,  man’s 
Reason  would  be  satisfied  as  to  the  existence  of 
God,  His  character,  and  relations  to  man,  and  the 
nature  and  extent  of  His  Communications  to  him. 
All  such  knowledge  would  be  of  slow  growth, 
and  it  is  evident  that  if  religion  depended  solely 
upon  such  knowledge,  it  could  only  be  in  the  later 
and  more  perfect  forms  of  society  that  an  adequate 
knowledge  of  God  could  be  reached,  or  that  a Rev-' 
elation  could  be  so  tested  by  Reason  as  to  be  ac-, 
cepted  on  rational  grounds. 

But  in  distinction  from  all  this,  there  is  in  man 
the  Instinct  of  a child,  or  of  a dependent  towards 
some  Unseen  Power.  This  instinct  manifests  itself 
as  a power  in  all  races  of  men,  so  that  religion  does 
not  begin  as  a product  of  Reason,  or  as  a result 
of  induction  from  the  study  of  the  works  of  nature. 
This  impulse,  or  this  instinctive  belief,  has  been  so 
strong  as  to  give  rise  to  the  numberless  gods  of  the 
heathen,  and  to  belief  in  oracles,  auguries,  signs 
and  visions,  for  the  guidance  of  man.  They  have 
all  been  believed  in,  because  they  are  such  mani- 
festations in  kind  as  this  instinct  leads  man  to  ex- 
pect. They  have  been  accepted  in  all  their  crudi- 
ties, because  the  comprehending  Power  of  man 
has  not  done  its  appropriate  work  in  giving  the 
light  and  guidance  to  this  instinct,  which  it  ought 
to  furnish.  It  plainly  has  but  two  methods  of  giv- 
ing light  on  this  subject.  The  first  is  through  the 


Prayer — Worship,  283 

study  of  nature,  — or  Natural  Religion;  and  the 
second  through  Revelation,  which  it  can  test,  as  to 
its  source,  and  consequent  validity.  It  would  lead 
us  too  far  from  our  subject  to  follow  the  baffled 
strivings  of  this  instinct,  in  seeking  by  itself  alone 
the  satisfaction  of  its  own»  yearnings.  But  there 
are  certain  beliefs  joined  with  this  instinct  that  are 
like  special  instinctive  impulses.  The  first  is  the 
belief  in  accountability  to  this  unseen  Being  ; and 
the  second  is  belief  in  immortality,  which  carries 
the  accountability  beyond  this  life. 

The  third  manifestation  of  instinct  correlated 
with  the  belief  in  God,  and  accountability, — or  of  His 
personal  relation  to  us, — is  Prayer.  The  instinct 
of  prayer  is  the  most  manifest  of  all  the  religious  in- 
stincts, and  is  more  nearly  self-directive  than  any 
other  of  them  ; and  it  is  so  strong,  that,  at  times, 
it  breaks  through  every  philosophical  theory  of  ne- 
cessity, or  pantheism,  or  atheism  itself. 

But  in  the  addition  to  the  impulse  of  prayer,  is  that 
of  adoration, — of  worship.  There  is  in  this  no  ser- 
vile fear  ; but  there  may  be  awe.  There  may  be  no 
desire  of  favor,  but  a pouring  out  of  the  soul,  in 
adoration  and  praise,  which  has  no  end  beyond  what 
is  found  in  the  act  itself,  as  meeting  a demand  of  our 
nature.  It  is  the  gratification  of  an  instinct,  which 
forms  a part  of  the  original  constitution  of  man. 

In  all  these  things, — belief  in  God,  in  immortal- 
ity, in  accountability,  and  in  having  the  instinctive 
impulses  of  prayer  and  praise  towards  ayi  unseen  Be- 
ing, — man  stands  alone,  so  far  as  we  can  judge. 


284 


Instinct. 


These  instinctive  beliefs  and  the  instinctive  actions 
are  strongly  analogous  to  some  found  in  the  lower 
animals,  and  almost  a perfect  type  of  the  instincts 
of  a child  towards  a parent.  But  having  reference 
to  an  unseen  Being  and  reaching  towards  another 
life,  they  are  peculiar.  They  are,  however,  in  this, 
analogous  to  the  instincts  of  such  animals  as  pro- 
vide for  the  future,  of  which  they  can  know  noth- 
ing by  inference,  either  from  their  own  past  exper- 
ience, or  from  any  knowledge  gained  from  those  of 
their  kind.  The  analogy  holds  in  regard  to  action 
respecting  an  unknown  future,  but  these  principles 
and  the  instincts,  in  other  respects,  are  entirely  un- 
like. The  latter  relate  to  the  continuance  of  the 
species,  or  the  comfort  of  the  individual,  while  the 
former  relate  to  accountability, — individual  account- 
ability to  God, — which  Webster  said  was  the  greatest 
thought  he  ever  had.  We  have  reached,  then,  in 
the  instincts  of  the  religious  nature,  the  origin  of 
the  highest  thoughts,  and  the  most  powerful  im- 
pulses to  action  through  love  or  fear.  And  as  un- 
derstanding gives  direction  to  these  impulses,  by 
itself  or  through  revelation,  we  find  the  authority 
of  obligation  joined  with  them  to  secure  them  from 
defeat  by  the  lower  nature. 

We  are  now  prepared  to  give  a diagram  that 
shall  aid  in  showing  the  comparative  condition  of 
all  the  powers  possessed  in  common  by  men  and  ani- 
mals— it  being  understood  that  the  word  “ IN- 
STINCT” only  marks  the  beginning  that  kind  of 
activity  which  is  continued  in  some  form  among  all 
the  higher  powers. 


Diagram  of  Powers. 


285 


V 

u 

c: 

<L> 

•c 

(U 

a. 

X 

W 

«+- 

o 


Will  ^ 


Impulses 

Conditional 

for 

Experience. 

Conditional 

for 

Insticctive 

Action. 


.2 

<u  Ph 
Psh  (U 
D 


Religious  Nature. 
(for  another  life.) 


Moral  Nature. 
(governing  all  below.) 


Sensibilities. 

Intellect, 


Will 
(simple 
volition.) 


Sensibilities. 

Intellect. 

(subordinate 
to  Instinct.) 


Instincts.  / Instincts. 
(supersensuous)  / (supersensuous) 

Appetites,  j Appetites 

(functional)  / (functional) 


Leo 


Animal  Life 


Reflex  Action. 
Sensation. 


Vegetative  Life 


Reproduction. 

Nutrition. 


Common 
to  Man 
and 

Animals. 


286 


Instinct, 


It  is  impossible  for  any  diagram  to  adequately 
represent  the  complex  powers  of  man  or  of  ani- 
mals in  all  their  relations, — for  the  lowest  powers 
are  often  united  in  action  with  the  highest, — but  it 
may  do  something  to  aid  us  in  gaining  a connected 
view  of  the  activities  which  we  have  investigated,  so 
far  as  our  purpose  required  that  we  should  investi- 
gate them. 

We  find  at  the  basis  of  all  activity,  in  animals 
and  men,  the  vegetative  life^  by  which  the  body  is 
sustained  and  the  species  continued.  Next  to  this, 
comes  the  truly  animal  nature^  as  the  condition  for 
sensation,  reflex  action,  and  sense-perceptions. 
All  these  must  be  common  to  men  and  animals,  as 
the  condition  for  instinctive  action.  In  addition 
to  this  machinery,  we  want  impulse  to  action.  And 
as  the  first  impulse  to  instinctive  action,  or  one  of 
the  first,  we  have  the  appetites  which  arise  from  the 
functional  activity  of  organs.  They  belong  to  the 
vegetative  life,  but  involve  sensations  and  have  no  di- 
rect dependence  upon  the  will.  Next  in  order  we  have 
certain  Instincts,  which  minister  to  these  appetites, 
or  in  other  words,  the  animal  has,  as  an  original  gift, 
the  knowledge  and  skill  needed  to  enable  him  to 
properly  satisfy  his  appetites;  and  this  original 
knowledge  and  skill  constitute  animal  Instinct, — 
Instinct  in  its  lowest  plane  of  action. 

We  have  regarded  Instinct  when  used  as  gen- 
eral term,  as  simply  a name  for  the  peculiar  action 
of  various  powers ; and  have  shown  that  so  far  as 
any  animal  is  wanting  in  any  instinct  or  power,  in 
the  beginning  of  life,  to  care  for  himself,  the  lack 
is  supplied  by  the  Instinct  of  the  parent. 


Intellect — Sensibility, 


287 


But  since  the  Appetites  are  not  sufficiently 
broad  to  furnish  impulses  for  all  the  action  needed 
for  animals  of  high  rank,  we  have  the  Desires^  so 
called,  which  do  not  rise  from  any  function  of  the 
body.  These  give  rise  to  whole  series  of  instinctive 
activities,  of  special  kinds.  And  so  here  we  find  in- 
stinctive action  rising  into  a higher  plane  than  the 
mere  satisfying  of  Appetite. 

The  Appetites  and  Instinctive  impulses^  and 
the  Instincts  which  guide  action  specifically,  are  the 
necessary  provision  made  for  every  being  that  is  to 
have  an  experience.  Sometimes  the  instincts  take 
the  place  of  experience  entirely, — they  always  must 
involve  so  much  of  original  knowledge  and  skill 
as  are  needful  for  carrying  on  the  work  of  life,  until 
experience  can  be  gained  to  aid  in  the  work. 

Above  these  instincts  is  Intellect,  by  which  the 
being  comprehends  relations  and  the  results  of  its 
own  acts.  In  the  animal,  this  is  so  low,  or  rather 
so  weak,  as  to  be  subordinated  to  the  instincts  of 
the  body.  In  man  it  is  the  servant  of  a higher  na- 
ture, which  by  the  aid  of  the  intellect  subordinates 
and  controls  the  instincts  of  the  body. 

In  both  animals  and  men  are  found  Sensibility 
and  will. — Sensibility  in  man,  taking  a very  wide 
range,  compared  with  that  in  animals, — its  highest 
range  being  beyond  his  animal  nature,  into  the 
moral  and  religious.  Will  in  the  animal  seems  to 
be  merely  the  obedient  executive,  carrying  out  the 
suggestions  of  the  instinctive  powers ; while  in  man, 
it  performs  the  same  office  work,  and  is  also  the 
power,  by  which  every  appetite,  instinct  and  desire, 


288 


Instinct, 


may  be  held  in  check  at  the  bidding  of  his  higher 
nature.  In  connection  with  this  office  of  Will,  in 
man,  the  power  of  choice  is  manifested, — CHOICE  OF 
AN  ULTIMATE  END  FOR  LIFE,  or  the  line  of  activity 
for  life,  which  determines  each  man’s  position  in  the 
world,  so  far  as  it  is  possible  for  him  to  break  through 
the  bounds,  which  physical  organization  prescribes 
for  him.  It  gives  individuality  among  men,  from 
some  principle  superior  to  physical  organization, 
and  hence  the  diversity  of  human  life.  We  honor 
or  despise  men  for  what  they  are  through  their  own 
choice. 

We  can  discover  no  power  like  this  in  the  an- 
imal. His  position  is  marked  out  for  him  by  his 
structure  and  instincts.  He  has  no  power  to  learn 
the  history  of  the  past,  or  to  contemplate  the  possibil- 
ities of  the  distant  future,  and  then  train  himself, 
by  years  of  labor  and  self-denial,  for  the  conflict. 
This  power  man  has. 

Passing  still  higher,  we  find  the  Moral  Nature, 
with  its  great  central  impulse,  OBLIGATION,  which 
governs,  or  ought  to  govern,  all  the  powers  below  it. 
It  is  to  the  higher  nature  of  man  what  the  bodily 
instincts  are  in  animals,  except  that  in  man.  Intel- 
lect must  give  the  knowledge  needful  to  direct,  and 
Will  the  limitation  of  action.  So  that  every  act  of 
man  from  the  impulse  of  Obligation  involves  the 
exercise  of  free  personality. 

Knowledge  of  relations  throtigh  the  Power  of  Com~ 
prehensio7i,  the  Sense  of  Obligation  arising  in  view  of 
that  comprehensio7i,  and  the  Power  of  Choice,  in  accord- 
ance zvith  Obligation,  or  against  it,  are  the  attributes  of 


Religious  Nature. 


289 


a PERSON.  Nothing  like  this  combination  of  powers 
is  found  in  the  animal,  nor  is  it  needed.  The  natu- 
ral impulses  and  instincts  of  the  animal,  are  limited 
by  the  functions  of  the  body,  to  certain  periods,  or 
to  a given  degree  of  strength,  so  that  they  are  self- 
regulative  and  need  no  limiting  power  above  them. 
In  man,  they  are  mainly  impulses  indicating  direc- 
tion, but  their  limitation  must  come  from  the  man 
himself.  They  bring  ruin  to  him  before  they  limit 
themselves. 

Still  higher,  we  find  the  Religious  Nature^  that 
joins  this  life  to  another.  It  gives  hopes  of  immor- 
tality, belief  in  a Father’s  care,  and  sends  the  de- 
sires of  the  heart  up  in  prayer  to  Him.  If  there  is 
not  another  life,  if  there  is  not  a Power  that  can 
answer  to  our  cry,  then  the  Religious  nature  of  man 
is  such  a blunder  as  we  find  in  no  other  part  of 
creation.  Every  appetite,  desire,  and  instinct, 
below,  has  something  responsive  to  it.  They  are 
all  given,  because  there  is  something  in  the  uni- 
verse that  answers  to  them.  The  insect  deposits 
her  egg  in  autumn,  because  the  earth  is  to  move 
on  hundreds  of  millions  of  miles,  and  bring  the 
spring  time  with  warmth  and  leaves  for  her  young. 
So  every  animal  instinct  is  answered. 

Shall  we  believe  that  this  Religious  nature  is  a 
mockery?  and  that,  in  answer  to  all  these  instincts, 
there  is  no  Father  to  listen  when  we  call?  no  love 
to  succor,  and  no  light  and  blessedness  beyond  the 
grave  ? The  heavens  and  the  earth  in  their  adap- 
tation to  the  nature  of  every  plant  and  animal  on 


290 


Instinct. 


the  globe,  cry  out  against  such  a belief.  As  we 
find  provisions  in  our  earth  rising  in  kind  for  every 
animal  and  man,  as  their  wants  rise  to  higher 
planes,  we  accept  these  provisions  as  proof  that  He, 
who  has  cared  for  myriads  of  beings  below  us,  and 
for  us  to  this  point,  has  not  mocked  us  in  regard 
to  this  one  great  provision  which  our  highest  na- 
ture demands. 

We  have  thus  discussed,  so  far  as  we  have  been 
able,  the  topics  presented  in  our  first  lecture,  as  the 
programme  of  our  work,  which  we  now  bring  to  a 
close. 

We  considered  first,  the  operations  in  inorganic 
nature,  foreshadowing  Instinct. 

H ere  we  found,  in  the  structure  of  the  earth,  the 
constitution  of  air  and  water,  the  change  of  seasons, 
and  chemical  changes  of  the  soil,  the  same  kind  of 
provision  for  all  organic  beings,  as  are  made  by  in- 
stinctive knowledge  and  skill  in  the  animal  kingdom. 

Entering  then  the  organic  kingdom,  the  simula- 
tion of  instinct  was  more  clearly  shown  in  the 
operations  of  all  plant  life  and  in  the  physiological 
changes  of  the  animal  body. 

We  next  came  to  the  simple  instincts,  that  care 
for  the  body,  supplementing  structure  and  function 
of  organs,  so  that  the  work  begun  within  the  body 
may  be  carried  on  in  a wider  sphere  than  structure 
and  function  alone  can  reach.  These  simple  forms 
of  Instinct  were  found  to  have  the  Appetites  as 
their  impulses. 

But  these  were  not  broad  enough  for  all  the  de- 


Summary. 


291 


mands  of  animal  life ; and  to  meet  these  demands 
of  wider  range,  we  found  impulses,  or  desires  and 
instincts,  arising  beyond  the  sphere  of  any  specific 
organization.  Among  the  instinctive  acts  arising 
from  such  impulses,  we  found  the  migration  of  ani- 
mals, the  storing  of  food  for  winter  and  the  fear  of 
special  enemies. 

We  next  traced  the  instincts  related  to  special 
structures,  and  those  necessary  for  the  existence  of 
certain  communities  of  animals.  So  much  we  found 
needful  for  adult  individuals.  But  nature  cares  also 
for  the  species ; in  fact,  among  the  lower  animals 
the  care  of  the  individual  seems  to  have  constant 
reference  to  the  preservation  of  the  species. 

Here  we  found  three  distinct  topics  for  discus- 
sion,— the  instincts  of  the  young,  to  bring  them 
into  relation  with  their  parents  and  the  world, — in- 
stincts, which,  like  those  of  the  gall-fly,  demand 
certain  changes  in  other  objects  to  complete  their 
work, — and  the  peculiar  instincts  of  one  stage  of 
being,  preparatory  to  another,  as  seen  in  the  devel- 
opment of  insects  from  the  lowest  form  to  the  high- 
est. We  then  treated  of  the  variation  of  instinct, 
through  the  abnormal  conditions  of  domestication, 
and  of  instinct,  as  the  Law  of  animal  life. 

At  this  point  we  gave  a summary,  showing 
Instinct  not  to  be  the  manifestation  of  any  pe- 
culiar principle,  but  to  be  simply  a method  of  ac- 
tion common  to  all  beings  and  to  all  their  powers, 
in  a certain  stage  of  their  activity,  — involving 
that  impulse,  knowledge  and  skill,  which  the  being 
must  have  as  an  original  gift,  as  a basis  for  expe- 


292 


Instinct, 


rience ; as  it  must  have  a certain  organization 
of  the  body,  as  a basis  for  independent  growth. 
We  also  showed  that  Nature  gives  as  little  In- 
stinct to  all  beings  as  possible,  and  leaves  the  rest 
to  experience.  But  if  experience  is  impossible, 
then  she  completes  the  work  by  Instinct. 

We  then  treated  of  Intelligence  among  animals, 
— of  Intelligence  as  the  servant  of  Instinct,  thus 
accounting  for  the  uniform  plane  of  life  in  each  spe- 
cies of  the  animal  kingdom. 

Next  we  considered  the  animal  Instincts  proper 
of  man,  and  then  his  higher  Instincts  or  Desires, 
finding  in  them  the  basis  of  his  social  nature. 

And  last  of  all,  we  have  treated  of  the  Moral 
and  Religious  Instincts,  and  have  found  in  Obliga- 
tion the  great  controlling  instinctive  impulse  which 
modifies  all  others  in  man. 

This  work  we  have  done,  as  we  announced  that 
we  should  do  it,  mainly  in  the  service  of  man.  We 
have  not  forgotten  that  the  lower  animals  are  sen- 
tient beings, — that  many  of  them  have  a high  capac- 
ity for  enjoyment  and  suffering.  When  we  remem- 
ber that  the  lower  tribes  alone  inhabited  this  earth 
for  long  ages, — compared  with  which,  the  highest 
antiquity  claimed  for  man  is  but  as  yesterday, — we 
cannot  regard  mere  animal  enjoyment  of  the  brute 
creation  as  insignificant,  in  the  plan  of  creation. 
And  whatever  enters  into  that  plan,  is  worthy  of 
the  thought  and  study  of  man.  But  the  capacity 
for  bodily  suffering  cannot  be  greater  in  the  ani- 
mal than  in  man  ; and  the  bodily  suffering  of  man, 
is  as  nothing,  compared  with  his  capacity  to  suffer  in 


293 


Study  of  Man. 

his  higher  nature,  through  the  wrongs  of  his  fellow 
men  and  his  own  wrong-doing  against  himself. 
With  all  our  boasted  reforms  and  advance  in  gov- 
ernment, education  and  religion,  the  degradation 
and  suffering  that  fill  the  dark  places  of  the  earth 
are  the  inheritance  of  man,  and  not  of  the  lower 
animals.  And  this  degradation  comes  from  ignor- 
ing or  transgressing  the  law  of  man’s  being, — by 
giving  loose  rein  to  the  animal  appetites  and  In- 
stincts, or  by  attempting  to  repress  them  without 
reason.  We  must  come  to  a more  thorough  study 
of  man.  This  study  must  take  no  secondary  place 
in  our  systems  of  education,  not  even  in  the  “ NEW 
EDUCATION.”  We  have  been  forgetting  that  the 
highest  knowledge  .for  man  is  a knowledge  of  his 
own  powers,  and  of  his  relations  to  the  whole  uni- 
verse and  to  God  ; we  have  taught,  at  least  by  prac- 
tice, that  the  highest  knowledge  is  found  in  the 
study  of  Natural  Science,  in  its  practical  applica- 
tions, and  in  the  laws  of  trade.  We  have  often 
dignified  mere  aggregated  facts,  of  local  value,  with 
the  name  of  science,  and  have  thought  more  of  con- 
trolling steam-engines  than  of  controlling  the  pow- 
ers of  men  or  of  teaching  men  the  necessity  of  con- 
trolling themselves,  and  the  methods  of  doing  the 
work.  We  have  sent  them  out  to  study  the  world, 
but  have  failed  to  show  them  how  they  are  linked 
to  it,  and  how  they  ought  to  rise  above  its  power 
by,  first  of  all,  obeying  its  demands.  It  is  only 
through  a knowledge  of  physical  laws  and  of  his 
own  nature,  in  all  its  planes,  especially  in  that  plane 
of  instinctive  impulses  where  activities  arise  and 


294 


histinct. 


strive  without  his  bidding,  and  in  spite  of  his  Will^ 
— it  is  only  through  this  broad  knowledge  of  self, 
that  man  can  bring  every  power  into  service,  and 
make  it  minister  to  the  great  work  of  life  which  he 
has  made  the  object  of  his  choice.  He  is  linked  by 
an  iron  fate  to  this  universe,  but  so  linked  that, 
through  the  aid  of  his  higher  powers,  he  may  make 
the  whole  material  universe  his  servant,  almost  as 
readily  as  he  can  control  his  own  body.  Can  he 
not  whisper  around  the  globe,  as  easily  as  across  the 
room  ? Do  not  the  stars  and  compass  tell  him  his 
pathway  on  the  ocean  ? Does  he  not,  while  he  sleeps, 
travel  with  a steed  that  cannot  tire?  Can  he  not 
pluck  the  fruits  of  far  off  lands  as  readily  as  those  that 
grow  in  his  own  garden  ? Can  he  not  see  the  storm  a 
thousand  miles  away  and  prepare  for  its  coming? 

It  is  because  all  nature  has,  or  may  have,  rela- 
tions to  man, — because  he  is  acted  upon  by  every 
force,  and  related  to  all  the  changes  of  the  organic 
and  inorganic  world, — that  the  study  of  nature  is 
of  any  value.  The  whole  physical  universe  is  seen 
to  centre  in  him.  What  problem  of  the  past  geo- 
logic ages  can  be  studied,  that  does  not,  in  some 
way,  bear  upon  the  question  of  man’s  origin  or  des- 
tiny? The  Botanist  and  Zoologist  may  study  abor- 
tive stamens,  or  forms  of  birds’  nests,  but  they  can- 
not, in  this  day,  disconnect  even  these  from  some 
theory  of  man.  The  astronomer  may  watch  the 
stars,  measure  the  craters  of  the  moon,  analyze  the 
blazing  tongues  of  fire  that  encircle  the  sun,  but  no 
conclusion  he  reaches  is  complete  till  its  relation 
to  the  past,  present  or  future  of  man,  is  determined. 


Man  a7id  the  Universe,  295 

Man  is  the  one  point  towards  which  all  the  rays  of 
light  in  the  physical  universe  seem  to  converge. 
And  whatever  ray  is  struck  by  the  searcher  foi 
truth  if  he  follows  its  direction,  man  is  his  ultimate 
goal.  We  may  believe  that  this  relationship  has 
been  established  by  the  direct  and  repeated  inter- 
ference of  Creative  Power  and  Intelligence ; or  we 
may  believe,  if  we  can,  that  it  has  come  from  some 
law  of  the  universe,  which  from  nebulous  matter, 
has  evolved  all  past  and  present  forms  of  life ; but 
the  fact  of  man’s  universal  relationship  still  remains. 

We  announced,  in  the  beginning  of  this  course, 
that  it  was  no  part  of  our  plan  to  discuss  theories 
of  development,  which  attempt  to  account  for  the 
origin  of  the  relations  among  organic  beings.  We 
have  referred  to  them,  only  incidentally.  Our  work 
has  been,  mainly,  to  find  how  things  are,  what  the 
relations  are,  which  the  instinctive  principles  of  ac- 
tion now  establish  between  the  animal  kingdom  and 
the  world  around  it,  and  especially,  the  position  of 
these  principles  in  man.  We  have  found  it  impos- 
sible to  study  these,  without  showing  their  relation 
to  every  class  of  powers  which  man  possesses.  And 
so  complex  is  man^ — so  linked  together  are  all  his 
activities, — they  so  act  together  in  every  effort  he  puts 
forth, — that  he  must  be  studied  as  a whole,  before  any 
one  portion  of  his  nature  can  be  fully  binder  stood. 
Each  portion  of  his  nature  has  relations  to  the 
others,  and  he  has  relations  to  the  world,  upon 
which  his  whole  activity  depends. 

It  has  unfortunately  happened  that  too  many 
have  attempted  to  study  man,  without  due  atten- 


296 


Instinct. 


tion  to  these  relationships.  Some  have  placed  man 
in  a world  of  their  own  creation,  that  does  not  cor- 
respond to  the  world  of  reality.  Others  have  studied 
him  from  a single  stand  point,  in  physical  science. 
Others,  still,  have  ignored  the  truly  animal  nature, 
which  is  the  agency  through  which  man  works,  and 
by  which  he  may  be  controlled. 

The  result  of  all  such  partial  study  of  his  nature, 
has  been  unfortunate, — unfortunate  for  science,  but 
more  unfortunate  in  its  influence  on  the  social,  in- 
tellectual, and  moral  progress  of  the  race. 

All  the  problems  that  relate  to  man  will  not  be 
settled  by  the  present  generation,  nor  within  the 
coming  century.  We  are  only  in  the  infancy  of 
those  sciences,  which  are  to  fully  reveal  to  us  man’s 
nature,  and  the  best  conditions  of  his  physical,  so- 
cial, and  moral  development.  Thousands  of  mis- 
takes will  be  made  in  Politics,  Religion,  and  Edu- 
cation in  all  its  branches,  before  our  schools  will 
present  to  us  a course  of  study  and  discipline  that 
will  be  what  the  best  good  of  the  world  demands. 
Our  railroads,  telegraphs,  and  other  inventions  and 
discoveries,  will  be  perfected  long  before  a perfect,  or 
even  tolerable,  system  of  education  and  form  of  gov- 
ernment, will  be  agreed  upon  by  all  men,  even  when 
they  have  the  same  society  to  provide  for.  What 
can  we  do  in  such  a chaos  of  opinion  ? Little  more 
than  to  understand  that  there  is  chaos,  and  govern 
ourselves  accordingly.  Instead  of  ruthlessly  pulling 
down  what  has  been  done,  before  our  time,  simply 
because  there  is  clamor  for  change,  let  it  stand  till 
its  uselessness  or  injury  is  clearly  seen, — it  will  do 


Progress. 


297 


little  harm  till  then.  Instead  of  undertaking  to 
complete  the  work,  which  will  take  the  time,  and 
strength',  and  wisdom,  and  suffering,  of  many  gen- 
erations, let  us  write  upon  all  our  work,  “ To  be 
taken  away^  when  better  materials  and  better  methods 
are  discovered!'  Let  us  encourage  those  who  are 
to  come  after  us,  to  make  progress,  by  sweeping 
our  work  away  as  soon  as  its  defects  are  seen.  But 
instead  of  this,  we  are  likely  to  be  satisfied  with 
a defective  structure  because  it  is  the  work  of  our 
own  hands,  or  of  those  whom  we  admire,  and  to 
pronounce  anathemas  upon  him  who  shall  dare  to 
remove  its  foundations,  or  even  speak  slightingly 
of  its  boasted  perfections.  Thus  the  influence  of  a 
great  name  has  reached  down  through  generations, 
protecting  gross  errors  that  ought  to  have  been 
swept  away— errors  that  palsied  the  power  of  thought, 
and  forbade  the  growth  of  man’s  better  nature. 

In  contrast  to  this  veneration  for  established  error, 
because  it  has  long  passed  current  for  truth,  we  find 
those  who  would  sweep  from  modern  life  every  ves- 
tige of  the  past.  Their  strength  is  spent  mainly  in 
demolishing ; or,  if  they  build  at  all,  it  is  with  wood, 
and  hay,  and  stubble,  hastily  gathered  and  destined 
soon  to  perish. 

We  claim  for  ourselves  no  right  to  entail  errors 
upon  those  who  come  after  us  ; nor  dare  we  yet 
stand  idle,  for  fear  of  making  mistakes.  He  wlio 
waits  till  he  is  sure  of  not  making  them,  will  do 
very  little  for  the  world. 


When  I consider  how  much  still  remains  un- 


2gS 


Instmct. 


known, — when  I consider  the  mistakes  of  the  best 
observers,  and  the  disagreements  of  those  who  in- 
terpret accepted  facts,  I can  only  assure  myself  that 
these  subjects  have  been  presented  as  I have  read 
them  in  nature,  and  can  only  hope  that  the  work 
has  been  done  with  due  caution.  The  conclusions 
are  presented  as  suggestions,  whose  truth  is  to  be 
tried  by  future  observers.  No  one  will  be  more 
pleased  than  myself,  when  these  conclusions  are  dis- 
placed by  others,  which  plainly  arise  from  broader 
and  sounder  generalizations.  But  such  generaliza- 
tions can  never  be  reached  by  those  theorists  who 
manufacture  their  own  facts,  nor  by  those  observers 
who  have  reduced  themselves  by  their  narrow  fields 
of  labor  to  the  condition  of  scientific  artisans. 

To  secure  the  results  which  all  desire, — the  full 
knowledge  of  man  in  all  his  relations, — two  classes 
of  laborers  are  needed  ; those  who  give  to  a single 
department  of  Nature,  or  phase  of  society,  the  study 
of  a lifetime,  and  those  who  have  power  to  use 
the  labors  of  such  men  in  forming  a system  of  ed- 
ucation or  the  machinery  of  government.  But  the 
specialist  is  often  tempted  to  generalize  far  beyond 
where  he  has  the  ability  to  go.  His  success  in  one 
department  gives  him  courage  to  enter  fields  as  a 
master,  where  he  is  only  a novice.  His  acknowl- 
edged excellence,  in  a single  department,  gives  his 
words  weight  on  subjects  of  which  he  is  utterly  ig- 
norant. So  it  not  unfrequently  happens  that  a 
learned  man  does  as  much  mischief  by  his  crude 
theories  on  subjects  beyond  his  sphere  of  knowl- 
edge, as  he  does  good  by  his  positive  additions  to 


Progress  of  Natural  Science.  299 

science,  in  his  own  proper  field  of  labor.  The  sys- 
tematizer,  on  the  other  hand,  is  often  so  wanting  in 
the  power  of  original  observation,  and  scientific 
training,  and  so  ignorant  of  Nature,  as  to  be  unable 
to  secure  facts  for  himself  or  to  test  and  select 
those  fitted  for  his  purpose,  when  they  are  supplied 
by  others.  He  is  likely  to  start  with  just  facts 
enough  of  local  value  to  lead  him  astray  in  all 
broad  generalizations.  He  treats  of  the  world  as 
he  sees  it  in  one  isolated  spot,  or  as  he  thinks  it 
ought  to  be.  He  forms  a logical  system  of  science, 
but  when  it  is  carefully  tested.  Nature  disowns  it. 
She  has  a logic  of  her  own.  His  theories  are  with- 
out support.  The  first  careful  observer  points  out 
their  defects  and  they  become  a mass  of  rubbish  to 
lumber  book-shelves. 

There  is  apparently  no  help  for  this  state  of 
things  in  the  present  condition  of  science  ; espe- 
cially of  those  departments  of  science  which  relate 
to  human  life  and  action. 

In  Natural  science  the  materials  are  fast  accu- 
mulating. We  have  abroad  an  army  of  trained  ob- 
servers far  better  than  the  world  ever  saw  before. 
The  means  of  observing, — the  telescopes,  micro- 
scopes, spectroscopes,  and  museums,  as  well  as  the 
means  of  travelling, — are  tenfold  better  than  they 
were  a century  ago.  In  one  year  a man  may  see 
more  of  the  earth  than  Humboldt  could  see  in  ten. 
Give  him  now  Humboldt’s  power  of  seeing, — not 
with  the  eyes  alone,  but  with  the  mind, — and  how 
wonderfully  have  these  modern  inventions  increased 
his  power  of  observing ! Thus,  early  in  life,  can 


300 


Instinct. 


now  be  gathered  materials  which  were  utterly  be- 
yond the  reach  of  the  great  masters  of  the  past 
ages.  These  facilities  are  now  put  to  their  best 
use,  by  a most  accurate  training  of  the  senses.  The 
whole  man  has  been  trained  as  an  observer  of  na- 
ture. In  the  observing  and  recording  of  facts, 
great  accuracy  has  been  secured,  so  that  in  the 
works  of  our  greatest  living  naturalists,  we  can,  in 
the  majority  of  cases,  implicitly  trust  their  state- 
ment of  facts,  even  while  dissenting  entirely  from 
the  conclusions,  which  they  draw  from  those  facts. 
This  is  a great  step.  For  although  facts  are  not  all, 
— for  facts  may  lead  astray, — yet  we  must  have 
them.  They  are  the  materials  with  which  we  are  to 
build.  It  is  a great  point  to  be  sure  of  our  mate- 
rials— to  have  them  in  abundance,  to  be  sure  that 
they  are  sound  enough  to  bear  the  strain,  if  they 
are  only  put  in  the  right  position. 

If  we  could  haye  the  facts  without  the  crude 
theories,  which  bind  them  together  and  too  often 
conceal  them,  or  keep  them  from  their  appropriate 
use, — as  brick  and  stone  are  wasted  in  poorly  con- 
structed buildings  with  low  ceilings,  in  gloom.y 
corners,  and  over  cesspools,  which  bring  disease  to 
all  that  inhabit  them, — we  should  be  fortunate. 
But  few  men  are  like  David  of  old,  willing  to  col- 
lect materials  that  others  may  build  wisely  and  well. 
The  building  must  go  up  with  crude  and  scanty 
materials,  according  to  some  hastily-formed  plan. 
Such  a building  sometimes  stands  for  generations, 
because  some  famous  man  built  it,  or  slept  in  it ; 
or  simply  because  it  has  stood  so  long,  that  it  seems 


Transition  Period. 


301 


a sort  of  sacrilege  to  tear  it  away  ! So  it  is  with 
systems  of  belief — with  theories.  They  may 
abound  with  uncontrovertible  facts,  but  every  fact 
may  still  be  the  source  of  mischief,  because  misinter- 
preted. And  yet  these  theories  stand  because  they 
have  some  famous  names  to  uphold  them. 

But  let  us  have  faith  and  patience.  The  solar 
system  had  to  wait  long  before  man  could  see  its 
beauty,  from  the  Sun  as  centre,  and  form  a true 
system  of  Astronomy.  Men  raged  against  a true 
theory  of  the  heavens  as  infidel  and  absurd,  and 
clung  to  their  old  systems  invented  by  great  men. 
The  chemical  elements  waited  longer  to  have  men 
learn  their  simple  laws  of  combination,  and  that 
bodies  become  heavier  by  being  burned.  Not  a 
century  has  passed  since  men  believed  in  phlogis- 
ton,— that  something  escaped  from  bodies  when 
burning,  so  that  they  become  lighter, — as  some 
men  now  believe  that  when  the  air  is  heavy,  the 
smoke  falls  ! Longer  still  did  the  earth  wait  to 
have  her  strata  counted  and  measured ; and  a few 
of  the  generation  still  remain,  who  believe  that 
the  earth  is  not  quite  six  thousand  years  older  than 
themselves. 

When  old  notions  begin  to  break  up  because 
shown  to  be  false,  then  men  rush  to  opposite  ex- 
tremes. Then,  in  the  disturbance  of  the  transition 
period, -dW.  sorts  of  crudities  appear.  The  best  thing 
for  the  overthrow  of  a bad  theory,  is  that  it  shall 
have  as  many  supporters  and  hard  workers  in  its 
favor  as  possible.  As  a building  with  poor  founda- 
tion, and  weak  materials,  and  defective  workman- 


302 


Instinct. 


ship,  is  sure  to  fall  by  its  own  weight,  if  built  high 
enough,  so  a false  theory  is  most  readily  destroyed, 
by  encouraging  its  upholders  to  pile  upon  it  every 
fact  they  can  accumulate.  False  theories, — those 
venerable  with  age,  and  those  glittering  with  the 
polish  which  genius  has  just  given  them,— have 
their  worshippers  and  admirers. 

All  these  things  will  right  themselves.  The 
generations  will  die,  and  the  influence  of  great 
names  is  growing  less  every  year.  The  homes  of 
the  great  do  not  stand  long  in  the  way  of  modern 
progress.  I passed  along  your  streets,  and  saw  the 
crape  upon  the  door,  and  knew  that  the  great  Ora- 
tor, Statesman,  and  Scholar  slept  in  the  home  he 
had  hallowed  by  his  presence, — a home  that  in 
other  days  might  have  become  a shrine.  I passed 
that  way  again.  The  home  had  vanished.  Mass- 
ive walls  of  stone  had  taken  its  place,  and  the  “ Ev- 
ERETT  Block  ” was  echoing  with  the  din  of  trade. 
So  the  opinions  of  the  great  men  of  this  age  must 
meet  the  wants  of  the  age,  or  they  cannot  stand. 
The  theories  that  charm  the  crowd,  will  stand  only 
as  they  represent  the  truth.  For  it  is  with  truth 
that  men  will  build  to  stand.  It  must  be  block, 
and  cement,  and  form.  And  if  man  would  build 
for  his  own  wants,  and  for  the  world,  that  which 
will  remain,  he  must  study  himself — all  his  needs — 
his  needs  as  an  animal,  as  a man,  as  an  individual, 
as  member  of  society, — and  as  a worshipper  of  the 
Invisible.  When  all  the  members  of  society  under- 
stand all  these  things,  there  will  no  longer  be  a re- 
pression of  instincts  as  wicked.  They  will  be  cul- 


Conclusions. 


303 


tured  to  their  full  extent  as  conditions  for  higher 
action.  They  will  be  trained  in  obedience  to  a will 
guided  by  Intellect,  and  urged  on  by  Obligation. 
They  will  be  ready,  at  any  moment,  to  come  into 
action,  at  any  moment  to  "'retreat,  to  lead  in  the 
fight,  or  to  support  another  division.  Then  will 
the  man  be  educated,  and  then,  and  not  till  then, 
will  there  be  as  true  a theory  in  every  department 
of  Nature,  and  of  human  life,  as  there  is  now  of  the 
Solar  System.  Then  “ men  will  build  states  and 
churches  as  naturally  as  caterpillars  build  webs,’' 
and  for  the  same  reason  that  they  build  them  now, 
because  their  instincts  compel  them  to  the  work  ; 
but  then  they  will  build  them  as  wisely  as  caterpillars 
build  webs,  because  they  will  be  as  truly  self-guided 
by  the  use  of  the  higher  powers,  as  the  caterpillar 
is  wisely  guided  by  the  lower  instinct,  that  blindly 
directs,  giving  knowledge  and  skill.  Happy  will 
be  the  thousandth  generation,  if  the  moral  Instincts 
and  Intellect  combined,  appropriating  all  the  provi- 
sions that  have  been  made  for  them,  shall  approach 
in  their  uniform  results  for  man,  what  the  lowest  in- 
stinctive principles  to-day,  secure  for  the  lowest 
tribes  of  creation. 


APPENDIX. 


A. 

NOTE  TO  TWELFTH  LECTURE. 

The  conditions  under  which  the  Lectures  were  delivered,  made  it 
difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  consider  the  arguments  that  have  been 
urged  against  the  possession  of  religious  instincts  by  man,  from  the 
time  of  Locke’s  war  against  innate  ideas  to  the  present  day.  A few 
points  from  various  writers,  may  enable  us  to  give  the  doctrine  here 
announced,  a fairer  presentation,  than  has  been  made  in  the  Lec- 
ture. 

It  is  not  contended,  that  these  instincts  or  their  products,  exist 
in  man  naturally,  in  any  such  sense  as  the  '‘innate  ideas"  were 
.supposed  to  exist, — the  doctrine  of  which  Locke  opposed.  What  his 
notion  was  of  that  innate  idea  of  God,  which  he  denied  the  existence 
of,  he  informs  us,  B.  i.  ch.  iv.,  § 17. — “ If  God  had  set  any  impres- 
sion and  character  on  the  understanding  of  men,  it  is  most  reason- 
able to  expect  it  should  have  been  some  clear  and  uniform  idea  of 
Himself,  as  far  as  our  weak  capabilities  were  capable  to  receive  so 
incomprehensible  and  infinite  object.” 

Such  an  idea  of  God,  which  should  give  to  man,  or  be  to  man,  all 
the  knowledge  of  God  which  he  is  capable  of  securing,  no  one,  cer- 
tainly, at  the  present  day,  would  believe  to  be  innate. 

What  we  intend  to  teach,  is  that  the  nature  of  man  is  such,  that 
in  its  developments,  the  religious  instincts  which  we  have  mentioned, 
arise  as  naturally  and  as  necessarily,  as  impulses,  and  conditions  of 
progress  in  the  true  knowledge  of  God  and  of  our  relations  to  him,  as 
the  animal  instincts  arise  at  certain  times,  as  the  condition  of  growth 
in  knowledge  by  experience.  A child  may  die  so  young  that  not 
one  of  Its  appetites,  desires  or  instincts,  ever  comes  into  play,  that  we 
know  of.  Do  we  on  that  account  say,  that  such  a child  had  none  of 
them  ? We  may  say  that,  because  none  of  them  had  come  into  ac- 


3o6 


Instinct. 


tivity,  but  he  had  a nature  that  would  surely  give  rise  to  them,  under 
the  proper  conditions  for  its  normal  development.  They  are  pro- 
vided for  in  the  nature  of  his  being  ; and  that  is  all  we  mean  to  say  of 
the  religious  instincts.  One  may  be  so  young,  so  deficient  in  origin- 
al mental  power,  or  so  degraded,  that  these  religious  instincts  have 
not  been  called  into  activity — sufficiently  certain,  to  make  any  im- 
pression on  the  observer. 

The  writers  who  deny  the  existence  of  any  thing  like  an  innate  idea 
of  God,  seem  almost  uniformly  to  admit,  by  implication,  what  seems  to 
us  to  be  proof  of  the  existence  in  man  of  these  religious  instincts  as 
we  have  explained  them.  And  we  refer  here  again  to  the  distinc- 
tions drawn  in  the  Tenth  Lecture,  between  instinctive  and  intuitive 
knowledge. 

Locke  in  the  section  from  which  we  have  quoted  (§  17)  says, — 
“ though  the  knowledge  of  a God  be  the  most  natural  discovery  of 
human  Reason,  yet  the  idea  of  Him  is  not  innate.”  We  do  not  be- 
lieve that  the  idea  of  a God  is  innate,  as  Locke  used  the  word  “ idea,” 
nor  in  any  proper  use  of  that  word.  But  why  is  it,  that  “ the  knowl- 
edge  of  a God  (should)  be  the  most  natural  discovery  of  the  human 
Reason','  as  Locke  admits,  unless  it  be  on  account  of  those  special 
impulses  and  tendencies  in  man’s  nature,  which  we  call  instincts,  that 
certainly  urge  him  on,  and  in  a measure  direct  him,  so  that  he  may 
intellectually  make  the  full  discovery  of  that  which  shall  satisfy  the 
yearnings  of  his  being  ? The  knowledge  of  a God,  of  which  Locke 
speaks,  considered  abstractly,  is  not  easy  at  all ; and  the  fact  that 
children  receive  it  so  fully  as  they  do,  at  so  early  an  age,  is  proof  of 
some  special  adaptability  of  the  ideas  relating  to  God,  to  the  human 
mind. 

Cousin,  in  his  examination  of  Locke,  has  made  some  good  points 
on  this  subject,  which  we  may  quote,  without  assenting  to  all  that  is 
implied  in  the  extracts.  “ Every  thing  leads  to  God,"  says  he.  And 
again,  “ Do  not  go  to  consult  the  savage,  the  child,  the  idiot,  to 
know  whether  they  have  the  idea  of  God ; ask  them,  or  rather  with- 
Old  asking  them  any  thing,  ascertain  if  they  have  the  idea  of  the  im- 
perfect and  the  finite  ; and  if  they  have  it, — and  they  cannot  but  have 
it.  if  they  have  the  least  apperception, — be  sure  that  they  have  an 
obscure  and  confused  idea  of  something  infinite  and  perfect ; be  sure 
that  what  they  discern  of  themselves  and  of  the  world,  does  not  suffice 
them,  and  that  they,  at  once,  humble  and  exalt  themselves  in  an  inti- 
mate  faith  in  the  existence  of  something  infinite  and  perfect,  that  is  to 


Appendix. 


307 


say,  of  God.  The  ivord  may  be  wanting  among  them,  because  the 
idea  is  not  yet  clear  and  distinct ; but  no  less  does  it  exist  within  the 
folds  of  the  opening  intelligence,  and  the  philosophic  observer  easily 
discovers  it  there.” 

Passing  many  of  the  able  thinkers,  who  have  treated  of  this  sub- 
ject in  some  form,  as  Psychologists  simply,  we  are  more  interested  at 
present,  with  the  views  of  .those,  who  have  of  late  treated  it,  from  the 
broader  field  of  view — Anthropology. 

Mr.  Darwin,  in  his  “ Descent  of  Man,”  published  since  these 
Lectures  were  written,  denies  that  man  has  naturally  the  idea  of 
God,  but  he  grants  all  we  claim,  when  he  says,  “ If,  however,  we  in- 
clude under  the  term  ‘ religion  ’ the  belief  in  unseen  or  spiritual 
agencies,  the  case  is  wholly  different,  for  this  belief  seems  to  be  al- 
most universal  with  the  less  civilized  races T And  the  poor  Fuegian 
declared  in  the  most  solemn  manner,  says  Mr.  Darwin,  “ Oh,  Mr. 
Boynoe,  much  rain,  much  snow,  blow  much,”  when  he  saw  Mr.  Boy- 
noe,  needlessly,  as  he  thought,  killing  the  ducks.  And  yet  Mr.  Dar- 
win adds,  that  he  could  never  discover  that  the  Fuegians  believed  in 
what  we  should  call  a God  ! Probably  not.  Nor  is  that  the  ques- 
tion here.  The  question  is  whether  they  had  struggling  within,  an 
instinct  that  tended  to  reveal  God,  or  to  lead  them  to  seek  for  a 
knowledge  of  God  by  all  its  impulses  and  tendencies,  as  other  in- 
stincts work  in  man.  It  took  the  killing  of  those  ducks  to  bring  out 
the  belief  of  the  Fuegian,  in  an  unseen  being  who  controlled  the  ele- 
ments, and  in  man’s  accountability  to  him  for  his  actions. 

Sir  John  Lubbock,  after  presenting  his  proof  against  the  exist- 
ence of  any  knowledge  of  God,  among  the  degraded  tribes  of  men, 
considering  all  their  superstitions,  expresses  this  sentiment,  which  is 
quoted  approvingly  by  Darwin,  and  commented  upon  by  him,  as  fol- 
lows : “ ‘ Af  is  not  too  nittch  to  say  that  the  horrible  dread  of  unknown 
evil  hangs  like  a thick  cloud  over  savage  life,  and  embitters  every  pleas- 
ure'. These  miserable  and  indirect  consequences  of  our  highest  fac- 
ulties. may  be  compared  with  the  incidental  and  occasional  mistakes 
of  the  instincts  of  the  lower  animals.”  To  all  this  we  agree,  only 
substituting  religious  instincts  for  “ highest  faculties,”  and  add  that 
the  mistakes  of  these,  are  more  terrible  than  those  of  the  lower  in- 
stincts, because  they  are  higher,  and  are  linked  in  their  activity,  with 
all  of  man’s  highest  powers.  They  struggle,  but  they  need  light  and 
guidance,  which  must  come  to  them,  through  the  comprehending 
powers,  from  the  Revelations  in  God’s  works  and  Word. 


IjSiDEX, 


A. 

PAGE 

Accountability 271,  284 

Alchemists,  crude  belief  of  the 83 

Anatomy,  comparative 21,  22 

Animals,  method  of  investigating  the  subject 36 

body  upbuilding  in 70-77,  80,  81 

their  methods  of  securing  food 91,  92 

forms  of,  examples 96-102 

uniformity  of  method  in 103,  106 

simulating  death  to  preserve  their  life 118 

dependence  of  one  upon  another 165,  166 

preservation  of  the  fittest 169 

appetites  self-regulating  in 174 

spontaneous  activities  given  to,  according  to  their 

need  and  not  their  rank 184,  185 

acts  of,  depending  upon  acquired  knowledge 188 

are  they  thinking  beings? 189 

compared  anatomically  with  man 192,  193 

senses  of,  and  psychological  effect  of  sensations.  193-197 

their  capacity  for  enjoyment  and  suffering 195 

emotions  of  fear  and  anger  in 196,  197 

desires  for  esteem,  power,  society 197,  199 

esthetic  nature  in 199,  200  ' 

do  they  reason  and  learn  from  experience  ? 201 

intelligent  and  stupid 202 

taming,  trapping  and  training 203 

character  of  whole  species  may  change 204,  205 

memory  in 205,  206 

governing  principle  in 207,  208 

rights  of 209 

309 


310 


Index, 


PAGE 

Animals,  relation  of  young  to  mother 217  218 

acting  in  reference  to  contingent  events 235,  236 

instinct  in — its  analogy  to  obligation  in  men. . . .267,  270 

Ant,  red,  white,  brown 150 

community,  agricultural 139,  235 

Anthropology,  study  of  it  in  reference  to  universal  belief  in 

God 307 

Aphides,  cared  for  by  ants 235 

Apple  blossoms,  wonderful  workmanship  of 64 

Arbutus 60 


B. 

Baconian  philosophy  in  reference  to  study  of  science 24,  25 

Bear,  its  effort  to  climb 114 

Beavers,  organized  action  of 142,  143 

Bee,  honey,  bumble,  carpenter,  queen  mother  bee 

98,  130,  131,  149,  150 

Darwin’s  theory  of  instinct  in  the 151,  153 

how  did  the  bee  become  a builder? 152 

Being  Law  of,  defined 256-259 

Belief  Primary,  in  external  world  and  uniformity  of  Nature.. . 239 

Benevolence,  as  a principle  of  action 246 

Birch,  how  its  seed  is  provided  for 65 

Bird,  black,  crow,  cow 102,  108,  109-138 

Birds,  growth  of 87 

young  and  their  relation  to  the  mother 95,  218 

their  nest  building 100,  1:0 

The  most  wonderful  work  of,  the  result  of  instinct. ...  no 
Warning  note  of,  or  the  common  call  for  aid  and  ex- 
ample   117 

knowledge  of  and  fear  of  their  enemy  at  first  sight. ...  176 

Bloodhound,  his  keen  scent  and  structure  for  running 182 

Body  of  men  and  animals,  how  developed 80 

Brain,  organ  of  mind 33 

C. 

Caltha,  golden 60 

Carrion  fly  plant 164,  176 


hidex. 


311 

PAGE 

Catch-fly 6r 

Caterpillars 134,  165,  303 

Caves,  bone,  become  ancestral  mansions 17,  18 

Cell,  single 77,  78 

Cement,  coming  from  body  of  builder 97 

Chemical  affinity — elements 44,  83 

Choice  of  an  ultimate  End 288 

Cicada,  acts  without  previous  instruction 135 

Civilization,  Guizot’s  definition 35 

Cod-fish,  some  instinctive  acts  of 29 

Cohesion 43,  208 

Comb  of  honey  bee 97 

Community-system 138,  150 

Complexity  with  uniformity 142-146 

Conscience 272 

Consciousness 272 

Corn,  Indian,  special  contrivance  in 65 

Cousin,  in  reference  to  belief  in  the  Infinite 306 

Creator,  Personal .46,  63 

Creative  Power,  seeks  simplicity  through  unity 32 

Cuckoo,  European,  builds  no  nest 102 

D. 

Darwin 73,  151-153,  307 

David,  willing  to  collect  material  for  others  to  use 300 

Deity,  benevolence  of  the 194 

Diagram,  showing  relation  of  instinct  to  other  powers  . . . .285-288 

Dogs,  bull,  hound,  pointers,  spaniel,  Newfoundland 182 

Domestication,  the  effect  of  it  upon  animals 159 

E. 

Earth,  the 45 

supplements,  structure,  function  and  instinct 50 

Eddy  stone  lighthouse,  designed  from  the  oak 56 

Egg,  robin 81,  84-88 

Elm,  seed  of 65 

Emerson,  a quotation  from 224 

Emotions 196 


312 


Index, 


PAGE 

End,  definition  of  an 47 

Entozoa  91,  166 

Esquimaux. 205 

Evolution 80,  81 

from  seed 78 

from  species go 

Experience,  influence  of  it  in  men  and  animals 173 

Eye,  the,  adjusts  itself  to  new  conditions 113 

F. 

Faith,  an  instinctive  principle  of  progress 245 

Fish 91,  175,  204,  217 

Fitness,  to  begin  with,  before  variation  is  possible 169 

Fly  catcher,  the  great  crested 104 

trap 61 

Fly,  bot,  gall 66,  164-167 

Flies,  why  they  lay  eggs  on  carrion  plant 176 

Flocks,  organization  of — examples 139-141 

Food,  securing 91,  96 

Fowls 116 

Fuegian See  Appendix,  307 

Function  and  adaptation,  refer  to  welfare  of  individual  plant.  70 

and  structure 7i)  95 

Functional  action 8g 

varies  with  conditions.  Example,  fur,  eye, 

woodbine,  bean 113,  114 

G. 

Geology 18 

Geologic  change  simulates  instinct 52,  53 

Germ,  agency  of  life  in  the 75 

God,  Economy  of  His  plan 22 

Golden  rod,  protects  insect  foes 66 

Gravitation 43,  208 

Greenland 133,  141 

Growth,  method  of  growth 78,  79 

in  bird 87 

in  complex  being — what  is  required  for  it 88 


Index, 


313 


PAGE 

Grouse,  Ptarmigan — color  and  instinct  united  to  protect  it 133 


H. 

Hawk,  fish,  night,  hen 91,  loi,  ic6 

Hen 158,  160,  176 

History 18 

Natural  and  Speculative  Philosophy 30 

Homes  of  animals . .96-103 

Hopkins,  Mark,  quotations 240,  248 

Hornets’  nests 56 

Huber 122,  152 

Humboldt 299 

Huxley 76,  88 


I. 

Iceland,  coast  of 205 

Impulses 29 

to  build 106,  107 

independent  of  organization 175 

Individual,  sacrificed  for  good  of  species 157,  158 

Insects,  wonderful  correlation  between  form,  color,  and  instinct 

in 133 

Instinct,  to  be  studied  in  service  of  man,  some  difficulties  to 

be  met •••  •„• 23 

definitions  of .^25,^6,  40-42,  48,  136,  185,  227 

apparent  work  of,  and  how  secured.  • 27,  28 

begins  by  utilizing  structure  and  function — exam- 
ples   28 

must  be  investigated  as  a fact 34,  35 

an  absolute  necessity  in  animal  life 37 

what  the  scheme  in  this  study  of  it,  embraces  ...  .37,  38 
definitions  by  Paley,  Whately,  Hamilton. . ,26,  40,  41,  42 

alone  is  useless 48 

structure  and  function  supplemented  by  the  earth . . 

50,  51,  52 

seems  to  take  counsel  with  physical  forces 53,  54 

provisions  in  plant,  like 55,  58 

hornets’  nests  the  work  of 57 

works  with  apparent  forethought 59 


3^4 


Index, 


Instinct,  imitation  of,  in  plant  life 6o,  62 

connected  with  structure  and  function 71-74 

its  first  connection  in  bird  with  processes  below 

it 86,  87 

and  physiology  work  together  in  every  animal 89 

structure  and  function  in  reference  to  past  species. . 90 

of  one  animal  takes  advantage  of  that  of  another. . . 91 

not  burdened  with  what  function  can  do 92 

is  proved  by  the  wisdom  of  the  act 93 

pure,  needs  no  experience 94 

preserves  life  until  knowledge  from  experience  is 

possible 94,  95 

a natural  development  according  to  fixed  law. . .95,  96 

permanence  of  type  in  the  work  of 103 

not  to  be  counfounded  with  intelligence — pure  in- 
stinct  107,  loS 

defective — supplemented 109 

the  relation  between — and  appetites  should  be  under- 
stood to  avoid  great  confusion 112 

accomplishes  results  without  the  comprehension  of 

means  and  ends  in  the  actor 112 

self-adjusting  power  of.  Exam'ples — eye,  Vvoodbine, 

bean 113,  114 

study  of  plant  life  needed  to  prevent  wrong  conclu- 
sions in  reference  to 115 

higher  manifestations  of — that  have  no  relation  to 

appetites  or  functions 115 

fear  of  enemies  makes  one  animal  a sentinel  for 

others 116 

causes  united  action  in  time  of  danger — illustration.  117 
to  simulate  death  in  order  to  save  life,  an  original 

gift iiS 

not  a perfect  guide  in  climatic  changes — ex-muskrat.  119 
leads  the  partridge  to  plunge  beneath  the  snow  for 
protection  from  cold — but  death  sometimes  fol- 
lows in  consequence 121 

enables  some  animals  to  find  their  homes 122 

necessity  of  careful  observation  in  the  study  of..  123,  124 


Index. 


315 


PAGE 

Instinct,  in  connection  with  hibernation 125,  126 

in  relation  to  special  structure  and  function,  as  seen 
in  the  rattlesnake,  bee,  wasp,  hornets  and  spiders, 

128-132 

correlation  between — form  and  color — examples, 
grouse,  ptarmigan-grouse,  sage  hen,  spiders, 

caterpillars 1 32-1 34 

ready  for  most  complex  acts,  when  previous  experi- 
ence or  observations  are  impossible.  Illustration, 

The  Seventeen  Year  Locust 134,  135 

not  an  entity 135,  136 

seen  in  dependent  species  to  secure  the  services  of 

other  species.  Examples,  ants,  cow-bird 139 

for  social  life,  after  the  breeding  season  is  over 139 

for  organization  with  a leader,  or  system  of  senti- 
nels. Examples,  crows,  pigeons,  pelicans,  arctic 

tern 140,  142 

to  build  extensive  works.  Example,  muskrat,  bea- 
ver  142,  145 

diversity  of — structure  and  function — making  divi- 
sion of  labor  necessary.  Examples,  bees,  wasps, 

ants,  with  Darwin’s  explanation 149-156 

connected  with  change  of  function  in  the  mother. . . 158 

influence  of  domestication  on 159 

of  the  young  answering  to  the  instincts  of  the 

mother 160 

as  perfect  in  the  beginning  as  now,  proved  by  the 

very  existence  of  some  animals 160-162 

requiring  changes  in  other  kinds  of  animals,  or  in 

plants,  for  the  completion  of  its  work 162 

the  peculiar  instinct  of  one  stage  of  being  as  prepar- 
atory to  another,  in  which  that  instinct  is  lost — 

seen  in  the  case  of  many  insects 162 

changes  with  the  seasons 163 

secures  special  relations  of  animals  to  plants,  and  to 
each  other.  Examples — gall-fly,  tent-moth,  apple- 
tree  borer,  oaks,  roses,  spruces,  golden  rod, 
ichneumon  insects,  caterpillars,  bot-fly 164-168 


3i6 


Index. 


PAGE 

Instinct,  guides  the  young  of  those  species  that  are  not  to 
have  parental  care,  and  develops,  or  changes,  as 

the  condition  of  animal  changes 169 

a law  for  the  animal 170,  174,  207-208 

its  uniformity  among  animals 171,  172 

influence  of  experience  on 173 

is  not  infallible 175 

varies,  to  secure  a given  relation  of  the  animal  to  the 

world 176 

leading  to  an  act  essential  to  life,  is  sometimes 
linked  to  the  senses.  Examples — fly,  young  bird, 

hen 176,  177 

variations  of 177,  181,  182 

qualities  of 179 

change  of,  in  strength  and  quality,  with  correspond- 
ing change  of  structure — examples 182 

modified,  in  consequence  of  abnormal  conditions. . . 183 

no  indications  of  any  new 184 

what  the  general  term  includes 185 

given  to  animals  according  to  their  need,  rather  than 

rank 185 

instinct  begins  the  act — Intelligence  may  carry  it  on  186 
activities  included  in  the  general  term — the  sole  guide 

of  many  lower  tribes 187 

proper,  has  no  stupidity 201 

one  may  control  another 207 

is  it  the  same  in  man  as  in  animals? 208-213 

the  animal  in  man  difficult  of  separation  from  his 

highest  instincts 215,  216 

control  of,  by  man 221 

in  man,  is  it  separate  from  desires  ? 222-224 

sphere  of — its  true  nature  learned,  by  knowing  what 

powers  men  and  animals  have  in  common 226 

comparison  of  it,  in  men  and  animals 226 

products  of. 227 

Impulse,  knowledge,  skill,  all  involved  in  the  mani- 
festations of  activities  called 227,  22S 

difference  between,  and  intuitions 230,  231 


Index, 


317 


PAGE 

Instinct,  purposes  of,  for  life,  progress,  benevolence,  worship  237 
that  has  appetite  as  its  basis  is  never  self-regulative 

in  man 241,  242,  249,  250 

in  man,  governed  by  the  sense  of  obligation. . . . 267,  268 

religious,  in  man 280-284 

its  comparative  place  in  rank  with  other  powers  of 

man — diagram 285-290 

summary  of  the  presentation  of  the  subject  in  these 

lectures 290-292 

this  investigation  made  in  the  service  of  man  . . .292-295 

Instinctive  acts  in  animals 28,  29,  67,  68 

young  robin 85 

taken  for  reflexive 238 

Individual  welfare  sacrificed  for  the  good  of  the  species.  .157,  158 

Intellect  in  animals  can  be  detected  only  as  they  perform  the 
same  acts  under  the  same  conditions  and  by  the 
same  means  or  methods  as  man  performs  them.  190-192 


and  moral  sense  compared 303 

Intelligence 34,  207,  208,  211,  292 

Intuitions,  relate  to  abstract  truths 231 

Iron,  in  building  up  the  body 88 

K. 

Kingfisher 161 

L. 

Lake  deposits 17 

Laws,  of  human  life 20 

Law,  need  of  civil 243 

Life,  conditions  of 49 

results  of,  as  an  agency,  a builder 74-78 

origin  of 76 

variables  in 82-84 

Locke,  in  reference  to  “ innate  ideas  ” Appendix,  307 

Lubbock,  Sir  John,  in  reference  to  knowledge  of  God  among 
degraded  tribes  of  men Appendix,  307 

M. 

Man,  what  is  he  ? the  central  question  that  relates  to  the  pres- 
ent world 19-21 


Index. 


318 


PAGE 

Man,  that  which  is  distinctive  in  man  can  only  be  reached  by 
' exhaustive  comparison  between  him  and  the  lower 

animals 22 

a complex  machine,  and  the  engineer 2i 

comparison  of  his  anatomical  structure  with  that  of  the 

lower  animals 32,  33,  192,  193 

metaphysical  conclusions  with  reference  to  man  lie  at 
the  foundation  of  all  systems  of  education  and  morals  34 

appetites  of,  compared  with  those  of  animals 174,  206 

his  senses  and  sensations,  compared  with  those  of  ani- 
mals  193-T95 

his  animal  nature  essential  for  this  world,  but  no  new 

law  of  physiology  found  in  it 212 

impulses  in 213,  214 

his  difference  in  kind  from  animals,  found  in  the  super- 

sensual  part  of  his  being 214 

free  personality  in 215 

an  animal,  and  also  the  image  of  God 215 

begins  life  on  same  plane  with  animals 216 

can  control  his  instincts 221 

desires  in,  their  method  of  action 222-223 

desires  the  basis  of  his  social  nature,  and  a means  of 

progress 224,  225 

L Instincts  of  his  rational  nature 229-231 

I his  instinctive  belief  in  uniformity — connection  of  cause 

and  effect 233,  234 

faith  and  benevolence  instinctive  principles  in 245,  246 

law  of  limitation  for 248 

his  higher  nature  involves  distinct  methods  of  activ- 
ity  249,  250 

his  lower  nature  adapted  for  service,  but  must  be  gov- 
erned  249,  250 

has  power  to  comprehend  himself 251,  252 

his  relations  so  complex  that  each  man  has  something 

different  from  every  other 253 

new  spheres  of  activity  opening  before  him 253 

Will  in — combined  with  his  rational  nature  leads  to  no 
higher  motive  than  expediency 254 


Index. 


319 


PAGE 

, sense  of  obligation  in 254,  255 

law  of  his  being,  where  found,  and  defined 255-277 

difference  between,  and  an  animal,  found  in  three  dis- 
tinctive powers  of  his  higher  nature 273 

two  causes  of  wretchedness  in  him 275 

close  of  discussion  of,  as  belonging  to  this  world  alone.  276 

his  nobleness  seen  in  the  outfit  given  to  him 277 

the  lowest  plane  of  action  to  which  he  can  sink 277 

the  works  of,  compared  with  those  of  animals  in  their 

aim 277 

the  conscious  activity  of,  not  limited  to  the  duration  of 

his  physical  life 279 

enumeration  of  the  five  instinctive  principles  of  the  re- 
ligious nature  of 280 

his  belief  in  the  existence  of  God  universal,  but  a reve- 
lation needed  for  adequate  knowledge  of  God. . ..281-283 

innate  idea  of  God See  Appendix,  305-307 

belief  in  accountability  the  result  of,  or  joined  with,  the 
instinct  of  a child,  or  dependent  toward  some  unseen 

power 282,  283 

the  instinct  of  prayer,  correlated  with  belief  in  God 

and  in  accountability 283 

worship  is  the  gratification  of  an  instinct,  which  forms 

a part  of  the  original  constitution  of  man 283 

his  belief  in  immortality 283,  284 

diagram  of  his  powers  and  their  relative  import- 
ance  285-288 

individuality  in — the  result  of  will,  and  power  of  choice 

of  an  ultimate  end  for  life 288 

certain  attributes  in,  not  found  in  or  needed  by  ani- 
mals   288,  289 

his  highest  needs  not  disregarded  by  his  Creator.  . .289,  290 

all  this  discussion  of  instinct  has  been  done  mainly  in 

the  service  of  man 292 

the  study  of  man  must  take  no  secondary  place  in  our 

systems  of  education 293 

to  secure  the  full  knowledge  of  man  in  his  present  rela- 
tions, two  classes  of  laborers  are  needed 298 


320 


Index. 


PAGE 

Man,  the  whole  physical  universe  centres  in  man 294 

is  so  complex  in  his  nature  that  he  must  be  studied  as  a 
whole,  before  any  one  part  of  his  nature  can  be  fully 

understood 295 

all  the  problems  concerning  him  will  not  be  settled  for 
many  long  years,  nor  without  taking  the  time, 

strength  and  wisdom  of  many  generations 296,  297 

the  conclusions  in  this  discussion  are  only  presented  as 
suggestions  whose  truth  is  to  be  tried  by  future  ob- 
servers  298 

when  fully  understood,  there  will  be  the  right  system  of 
education,  and  as  true  a theory  in  every  department 
of  nature  and  human  life,  and  there  is  now  of  the 


solar  system 303 

Marriage,  high  and  holy 220,  221,  242 

INIigration 119 

Mind 33 

Mineral  kingdom — force  of  cohesion  differs  from  life,  the  force 

of  the  organic  kingdom 33 

Mistakes  in  politics,  religion  and  education 296 

Mistletoe 66 

Morgan,  Lewis  H.,  on  the  beaver 142-146 

Muskrat 99,  120,  145 

N. 

Natural  religion — the  study  of  nature  gives  light  and  guidance 

to  the  religious  instinct 283 

selection 124,  152-156,  159 

history 30,  298,  299 

Nature 20,  48 

provides  for  the  animal  according  to  the  condition  in 

which  it  is  to  enter  upon  life 176 

Rational  in  man 229,  230 

Religious,  revelation  needed  for  the 283,  289 

Nest  building 96-109 

why  some  are  better  built  than  others 106 

O. 


Oak. 


55-57 


Index. 


321 


PAGE 

Oak  Pruners 167 

Obligation 267,  272 

Observation,  necessity  of 123 

Orchid  flowers,  special  contrivance  in 73 

Oriole 102 

Osmose,  chemical  action,  and  mechanical  structure  are  but 

servants 88 

Ought 220 

Owl,  as  an  illustration 117 

P. 

Partridge 121 

Philosophy,  speculative 30 

Physiology  and  instinct  work  together 89 

Plant,  activities  in  the 26 

apparent  forethought  in  the 59 

secret  processes  in 60 

often  seems  like  a sentient  being  providing  for 
growth,  enjoyment,  rest.  Examples — sensitive  plant, 

sunflower,  water-lily 60,  62 

sex  among  plants 63 

young  provided  for  by  the  parent  plant 63,  65 

as  protector  and  supporter  of  animal  life.  Examples, 

oak,  golden  rod,  potentilla,  willow  and  spruce 66 

adaptation  of  means  to  ends.  Example — tent-moth. . . 70 

special  contrivances  in.  Examples — orchid  flowers 73 


change  of  action  in,  according  to  surrounding  condition 
or  the  change  in  it,  example — woodbine,  bean,  potato  1 14 


Positivism 47 

Prayer 283 

Progress,  in  society,  in  knowledge  of  men,  and  in  natural 

science 224,  298-300 

Providence 253 

Protoplasm 77 

Psychological  prism  needed 215 

Ptarmigan  grouse  of  Greenland 133 


Question  in  this  discussion  to  be 
is  it?”  


Q. 


What  is  it  ? ” — not  “ Plow 


46 


Index. 


3u22 

PAGE 

Queen  mother  bee 

Quality,  gives  power i3o 

R. 

Rattlesnake,  instinctive  action  of  the,  and  machinery  for  it  .28,  129 

Reason,  pure 281,  282 

Reflex  action  lower  than  instinctive 219 

Religion,  does  not  begin  as  a product  of  reason 282 

Revolution,  reformation  caused  by  progress 225 

Robin,  egg  and  nest 84,  102 

Roses,  provide  food  and  lodging  for  young  insects 165 

S. 

Sage  hen  of  Rocky  Mountains 133 

Salmon 29,  175,  232 

Sea  urchins 185 

Seed,  the  fertilization  and  distribution  of 64-66 

Selection,  natural 124,  152-159 

Sensation,  we  have  reflex  action  from 44 

Silkworm,  silk  and  cocoon  of  the 28 

Smeaton,  the  lighthouse  builder,  from  study  of  the  oak 55 

Sparrow,  chipping,  or  hair-bird 102 

Species,  some  of  them  exist,  not  through  natural  selection,  but 

in  spite  of  it,  as  seen  in  special  contrivances 173 

Spencer 88 

Spider 96,  132-134 

Stansbury,  Major,  on  the  Utah  Lake  pelican 141 

Sticklebacks 98 

Structure  and  function,  their  relation  to  each  other 72 

Sun,  sunflower,  sun-dew 60,  61 

Swallow,  bank,  chimney loi,  161 

T. 

Tent-moth 68,  164,  167 

Theories,  will  stand  only  as  they  represent  truth 164,  167 

Thrushes 102 

Transition  period  in  science 301-303 

Tree,  a community  of  individuals,  which  it  supports  and  pro- 
vides for 55-57 


Index.  323 

U. 

PAGE 

Utah  Lake 141 

V. 

Variables 82,  84 

Variations  in  plants  and  animals,  and  accidental 155,  178,  179 

Vertebrate  type 32 

Vireo 108 

W. 

Wallace.  Theory  in  reference  to  nest-building.  .104,  105,  133,  154 

Warblers 108 

Wasp-Paper 98,  130,  131 

Webster,  Daniel,  on  individual  accountability  to  God 284 

Willow 66 

Wilson 122 

Woodbine 114 

Woodpecker 161 

Wren 16 1 


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